avelog

In a faraway land, long ago – specifically, in Victoria, four weeks ago – I wrote my last post, leaving you hopeful of a last, dazzling month in Australia filled with fun, adventure, thrill after thrill, and lots and lots of chocolate. Wonder no more my friends, that’s exactly what happened and I’m here to make my report. As on the last occasion at which I made such a delayed report, I will cut it in two in order split the delirious dose of joy you get in order to avoid an overdose. The first (see below) details the Great Ocean Road journey, the grievous separation from our campervan, and our laidback days in Adelaide. The present post details our nine-day tour through the Red Centre, Darwin, and Kakadu NP and our last days in Australia. Enjoy!

Late in the afternoon on July 3rd we hopped on a Greyhound bus for the twenty-hour ride up to Alice Springs in the Red Center, and woke up in the morning to the unbelievably flat and desolate outback scrubland stretching to the horizon in every direction. Having seen no human habitation since dawn except the occasional roadhouse, we rolled into the dusty outback city of Alice Springs in the early afternoon and dragged our bags into the hostel provided for our scheduled nine-day Red Centre and Darwin tour.

An outback ambulance; our twenty-hour transport to Alice Springs

The first three day segment was based out of Alice Springs, making a big circle to visit Uluru (Ayers Rock), Kata Tjuta (The Olgas) and Kings Canyon. The first day involved a five hour drive down to the Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park, with a quick roadhouse stop for optional camel rides. After lunch at the permanent campsite, we stopped at Kata Tjuta to admire the great big red rock domes and hike for a couple of hours up between the domes on the Valley of the Winds walk. We had finally out-paced the rain, with not single white puff marring the wide blue sky. The rocks at Kata Tjuta were very different from those of famous Uluru close up, composed of many different little pebbles solidified into a conglomerate. Back in the bus, we paused at the sunset lookout to take a few quick photos before racing over to Uluru for the real sunset, whereupon we sipped champagne from plastic mugs as the setting sun rendered the Big Red Rock brilliant shades of orange, red and gold. Liz and I opted to the night beside the campfire in swags, zippered canvas bags complete with thin mattresses into which you slide your sleeping bag. The moon and stars overhead were almost too bright to sleep, but we eventually awoke from peaceful slumber into chilled five o’clock darkness in order to get out of camp and on our way.

The view from the saddle on the Valley of the Winds walk; Liz and I in the Valley; the domes of Kata Tjuta (The Olgas) from afar; Liz and I at Uluru (Ayers Rock) sunset

Uluru (Ayers Rock) at sunset

Kieran taking sunset photos at Uluru with campagne gla–, I mean cup; Liz with her favourite lizard; Liz and I in our swags under the stars

Sunrise found us starting out on the Uluru basewalk, our options limited both by high winds that forced the closure of the Uluru climb and respect for the wishes of the local aborigines that people not make the climb, as it is an aboriginal sacred site. Following a few hours gawping upwards at the rock, we drove another five hours to our next permanent campsite at Kings Canyon. The evening was spent cooking chicken, potatoes and vegetables in big iron pots in the fire, eating marshmallows and exchanging stories before another night in the swags.

Sunrise on Uluru (Ayers Rock); and again; the hadrail up Uluru; a wave-like erosional cave at Uluru; our permanent campsite at Kings Canyon

In the morning, we headed to Kings Canyon and embarked on a three hour walk up the Canyon wall skirting shattered rocks and ghost gums as we trekked around the Canyon rim. Although the waterfall at the end of the Canyon was completely non-existent during our dry-season visit, we did pass by a hidden little green oasis in a hanging canyon above the main drop; an odd site in the middle of the outback.

Various Kings Canyon shots; the birds are rock pigeons

Following another night at the disappointing hostel in Alice Springs, we boarded the bus for our second three-day stretch, this one a hard-driving journey north from Alice Springs to Darwin, a distant 1500 kilometers away. This made for a pretty boring three days for the most part, with stops at anything remotely interesting, including the Tropic of Capricorn and the historic telegraph station at Barrow Creek, and the roadhouse at Wycliffe Well, Australia’s goofy UFO sightings capital. Slightly more interesting were the impressively round boulders piled on top of eachother in a jumble at The Devil’s Marbles, and a character-filled visit to the Daly Waters Pub, the ultimate outback pub according to travel writer Bill Bryson, filled with grungy Australian memorabilia and whatever little scraps of themselves people felt they could leave behind (old driver’s licences, police badges, national flags, panties, shirts, student cards, etc…).

The Tropic of Capricorn monument; telegraph station at Barrow Creek; our bus and stereotypical outback guide, Will; a cracked Devil’s marble; Kieran benchpressing a giant boulder

Broken egg; Liz showing off; playing in the rocks; aliens at large; Kieran contemplating the long road ahead

Daly Waters, incl police presence

The major event of the three days was supposed to be our visit to Katherine Gorge where we could either go on a river cruise or rent kayaks. Due to some terrible blunder by our tour company (Adventure Tours Australia), there were no kayaks to rent, and we went instead on a lookout hike and gorge swim. The hike turned out to be quite hot and boring, unforgivably souring the three days for most of our fellow passengers. We stopped in at a hot pool for a quick swim before getting to Darwin on the third day, but it wasn’t enough to make up for the dull and disappointing trip, and a blunder with the tour accommodation in Darwin made for another couple of hours of stress and disorder.

Katherine Gorge

Fortunately, the group’s Alice-to-Darwin woes were temporarily forgotten when we all met up for plenty of beer and free pub dinners at the Vic Hotel in Darwin. With hundreds of people crowding the big bar, our little group cheered loudest to win our representative a $200 didgeridoo. The disappointment of no-sharesies on the didgeridoo was somewhat softened when she bought a few rounds of jugs for us all. We then went on to dominate the pub quiz, capped by my winning performance on-stage in the bonus treasure hunt round, clinching for us a $150 bar tab with which to fund the rest of the evening.

Due to some scheduling difficulties with the tour company, Liz and I had a rest day in Darwin during which we did a little window-shopping and some laundry before we set out on the final three-day leg of our tour with visits to Litchfield and Kakadu National Parks. These three days definitely made up for the middle three, as they were chock full of action and adventure.

We roared out of Darwin in our sixteen-passenger 4WD truck pre-dawn darkness and drove a few hours into Litchfield NP to visit Buley Rockhole for a swim. An hour was spent splashing about in a series of little waterfall pools, jumping in (see Kieran’s patented Super Star Jump in photos), and swimming hard against the current only to float gently back once giving up. After a short drive, we stopped for another swim at Florence Falls, a real waterfall with big drop and big pool (read: much less intimate and more crowded). Both of these swimming spots are apparently at too high an altitude for crocs to reach them, as crocs are quite inept at climbing hills. The afternoon was then spent on a two-hour crocodile-spotting cruise on the Mary River (several hours away from the swimming holes!), with magnificent views of the Mary River wetlands. Many different birds and other wildlife were spotted, including both fresh- and saltwater crocodiles. Our guide informed us that during the wet season, the water level in the Mary River wetlands rises ten meters, creating a ten-kilometer wide body of water.

Frolicking in the water at Buley Rockhole

Florence Falls (x2); freshwater croc on the Mary River; big freshie; the Mary River wetlands

Jabirus in a tree; a saltie at last; sunset on the Mary River

After a night at another permanent campsite, we were greeted by an almost unheard of sound. Rain in July in Kakadu NP, something that hasn’t happened for twenty years according to all the gossiping guides and rangers everywhere we went. We drove for an hour and spent the morning admiring ancient rock paintings at Ubirr in Kakadu NP. Many of the paintings were quite intricate, and we were informed that Ubirr was a teaching site where grandparents taught their grandchildren lessons through stories illustrated on the rock. Australian aboriginal rock art is classified into four time periods, the most recent of which is called post-contact. See if you can spot the white man in the paintings below! We then drove another couple of hours to Maguk Falls, including a very brief four wheeling experience through a little creek. Along the way, our guide told us all about how saltwater crocodiles (freshies aren’t a threat to humans) get into the swimming holes during the wet season, since water levels rise many meters, allowing them to swim over big boulders they would otherwise be unable to climb. The park rangers then have to fish them all out once the wet season ends so that tourists can walk about and swim without being eaten. It made us all feel absolutely safe when we were informed that several crocs had been pulled out of the Maguk Falls pool this year, but that it is quite deep and the rangers are never quite sure. Imagining all the crocs in the dark water below us, we swam about for a while and jumped off some more rocks.

Aboriginal rock art at Ubirr: spot the white man!

Liz and I over Ubirr; Maguk Falls; and the croc sign!!

In the morning of our last day, we four-wheeled it for two hours in to Jim Jim Falls (150 high). As late as two hours before arrival, we weren’t sure whether the walk and swim would be open because the rangers still hadn’t decided whether they’d yet gotten all the salties out. Well, it was our lucky(?) day, and they declared it open for the first time this season, having pulled eight sizeable crocs out since the end of the wet season. Our fear of crocs wasn’t quelled much by the croc trap right near the falls and the “No Swimming” signs that the rangers hadn’t yet had time to take down. In the end, nobody was eaten and I was able to swim up under the falls and sit on a ledge under the pounding, furious water for a few minutes.

Four-wheeling it towards Jim Jim; Golden Orb spider; Jim Jim Falls in the distance

The croc trap below Jim Jim Falls; a very pretty moth; Liz bouldering at Jim Jim

We made our way back to Darwin with a brief stop at a little cultural centre to attempt some understanding of the history of the area, followed by a pause to examine one of the giant termite mounds that dotted the landscape.

Liz and I in the 4WD; giant termite mound; giant termites! (just kidding)

We took at midnight flight from Darwin to Brisbane and then the train down the coast to Burleigh Waters on the Gold Coast. Ten relaxing and pleasant days on the Gold Coast were spent doing whatever we pleased, with a fair bit of sunshine and happiness. Liz had a tough time fitting all of her collected possessions into her bags, but we eventually closed all the zippers, said our goodbyes, and hopped on the bus/train overnight down the coast to Sydney.

Party on the Gold Coast!

We have now spent three days in Sydney at a little boutique hotel (standby winter rate!), with free continental breakfast every morning. The first day was spent exploring by foot in a big circuit that included the Botanical Gardens, Sydney Opera House, Sydney Harbour Bridge, Circular Quay, downtown, and Hyde Park. We ate out at a little café (splurging in our last days?!?) before heading back to the hotel for the night. The second day included a morning visit to the world-famous Bondi beach and some shopping, before bussing it back to Circular Quay to take a ferry around to Darling Harbour. The harbour views from the ferry were breathtaking, but photos of Sydney will have to wait until I have somewhere to upload them. We then bumbled (although Liz claims not to be a bumbler) about the impressive Sydney Aquarium for two hours in the evening before picking up a pizza on the way back to the hotel.

Today we did some more shopping, with a stroll through the Sunday markets at the Rocks near Circular Quay, and a return visit to the shops at Bondi Junction. Unfortunately, much to Liz’s disappointment, we didn’t end up buying anything! We’re now about to nip out for a bite to eat and possibly some jazz before getting some sleep for our big flight back to Canada tomorrow!

It’s tough to accept that the journey is nearly over. How can we expect to go back to normal lives (especially Liz since she’s been in Australia for eleven months)? Keep tuned for more exciting news, as I’m expecting to make a big personal and career-related decision during the next two days! I will also post pictures from Sydney and possibly a thoroughly embarrassing picture of me from our victorious pub night in Darwin.

See all you Canadians soon!

Last you heard, we had just left Melbourne and were making our way down along the south coast towards Adelaide. Stopping briefly in Geelong to upload the last entry, we rolled onto the Great Ocean Road, one hundred and some odd kilometers of the most beautiful scenery of any road in Australia. After a brief photo shoot at the Memorial Arch marking the official entrance to the GOR, we got our first taste of the ever-winding coastal way, around headlands above steep cliffs, down into sandy bays, with amazing blue surf and sunshine rendering brilliant the characteristic orange sandstone of this coast. The Split Point Lightstation provided the first, somewhat underwhelming, break from the twisting drive; a tall white lighthouse with no outstanding features. Fortunately, just offshore at the same spot was the first of the eroded sandstone pillars for which this coast is famous, and we treasured it as if it were one of the famous Twelve Apostles (see below) instead of a single lonely straggler.

Our campervan rolling through the Great Ocean Road Memorial Arch

Our detour inland at Lorne to visit the Erskine falls proved a bit disappointing, as the brochure photo was presumably taken during an unusually damp wet season, complete with computer-enhanced shades of green. Lofty expectations can render the prettiest little waterfalls immensely dull, especially after twenty minutes added driving time each way. Low spirits quickly evaporated a few minutes later when we stopped at a small roadside eucalypt stand recommended to us by the fine folks at the Geelong visitor’s centre. After stumbling along a few paths between the road and the water’s edge and finally giving up and heading back to the van having seen nothing but water and trees, we spotted an extra bit of grey amongst the grey branches, and what did we find but our first wild koala, sleeping away in a blissful ball of fur on a branch just above and behind the van! Koala in the wild… check.

Of course, our self-congratulations over the single wild koala were almost immediately eclipsed when I spotted (and believe me when I say this is difficult when it comes to little grey balls of fur high up in eucalypts) not one, but two koalas just moments down the road, prompting us to squeal to a stop in a cloud of dust and dreams-come-true, hopping out to discover that we’d somehow stumbled upon what must have been the secret koala athletics club where koalas do slightly more than sleep and eat. Evidently, koalas also climb things and poop! I mean, there were rumours, but no human has ever seen an active koala. After all, they sleep twenty hours a day! They even tried to poop on us intermittently as we ran excitedly from tree to tree staring upward in wonder at little grey blobs and dodging traffic on the narrow bend of road where we’d stopped.

Spot the koala!!

After a while, even pooping koalas get a bit boring, so we set off again, driving through rich late-afternoon light, each valley a cascade of brilliant sunshine, surf crashing up on the beach in a spray of fine white foam, every headland darkened by shadow and hammered by the ocean. As dusk crept in and rainclouds darkened the horizon, the main road left the coast, and we turned south onto a little side road towards Cape Otway, coming to rest shortly after dark at a pleasant and almost-deserted little caravan park that invited us to ‘camp under koalas’. Of course, it wasn’t until morning that we spotted our grey little friends, and these weren’t nearly as active as those of the previous day. Dodging cattle (in a national park!? quite common in Australia), we continued down the little Cape road, stopping for a peek at the local lighthouse ($12 admission to the grounds or free peek from a distant viewpoint?). Note the beware-of-snakes sign photographed below while hiking to the lookout.

Rainclouds darkening the horizon; beware of snakes

Having had our fill of trekking through snake-infested bushland, we were all set to drive up to some more waterfalls and redwoods (yes, Californian) inland, when our briefly-forgotten travel companion made a reappearance. It seems that the foreboding rainclouds of the previous evening had caught us up during the night and rendered our planned scenic route an impassable series of mud pits and lakes: all fun and games until someone loses a mud-filled eye trying to push the campervan out of the ditch, wheels spinning and spewing (I’ll steer!). Instead, we continued west along the Great Ocean Road, curving inland through rolling green pasture before cutting back to the coast. We stopped to get a coffee only to remember that we were out of cash. This was fairly concerning since we wouldn’t get our campervan deposit back until the end of the month and my credit card required a code I didn’t have possess.

The bitter taste of no-coffee was immediately washed away upon arrival at Gibsons Steps, a staircase carved out of the sheer cliff-face, cutting down two hundred feet to a surf-washed beach that stretched as far as the eye could see to the east. Turning west, we sighted what we decided was the first Apostle. The Twelve Apostles are the drive’s defining feature; a set of sandstone pillars grouped closely together along the coast, best photographed at sunset (we mistimed that bit). After marveling at the great blue surf, we climbed back up to the van and hopped down to the official Twelve Apostles lookout, taking the mandatory photos and enjoying occasional glimpses of the sun between clouds. Further rock formations made for scenic pauses, including Loch Ard Gorge, where a ship sunk in 1878, washing the only two survivors into the gorge. An eerie purple light apparently emanated from the nearby Blowhole, a hundred meters inland, as phosphorous matches from the ship’s cargo signaled the presence of eleven bodies. We also paid a visit to the neighbouring Thundercave, where heavy surf is funneled into a narrow channel that ends in a deep, dark crevice, creating great booming surf for tourists adventurous enough to descend a steep staircase to a fenced ledge inside the channel. A few minutes further down the coast, London Bridge wasn’t quite as impressive as it may have once been, as it used to be a two-arched finger of rock extending off a small peninsula before the arch attached to the coast collapsed in 1990, stranding two surprised tourists on the seaward side (later helicoptered to safety). Late sunset light over the Bay of Martyrs provided one last look at the impressive rock formations of the Great Ocean Road, and we arrived at its end at Warrnambool to stay the night with Liz’s uncle’s friend at her cozy little house filled with African art and decoration.

The coast at Gibsons Steps from above; from below; the ‘first Apostle’; Apostles Two and Three; the rest of ‘em

Liz at the Twelve Apostles; the same with Kieran; mountainous spray against the rocks near the Loch Ard Gorge (hundreds of feet??); a random arch off the coast; the Blowhole near Loch Ard Gorge

The entrance to the Thundercave; with us!; the Bay of Martyrs at dusk

The following morning was dedicated to a guided tour of Warrnambool and a stop to watch a Southern right whale frolicking off Logans Beach. Liz and I then set off for a marathon drive to Adelaide, passing through Mt Gambier (a little town that will come to haunt us).

Liz and I with Carol watching whales in Warrnambool

Four nights and associated days in Adelaide were spent relaxing and recharging once we’d returned our cherished campervan. We stayed with Liz’s relatives whom she’d never before met, Barbara and her son Aubyn. Barbara pampered us to no end, setting out breakfast in the mornings with fresh orange-juice from the tree in the backyard, making lunch and bringing it to us while we read our books, cooking us big suppers, and serving ice cream and cakes for desert, providing rides to the gym and shops, and generally being overly kind and generous. Born and raised in Adelaide, and having been unaware of the existence of any Canadian relatives, twenty-year-old Aubyn somehow still ended up playing ice hockey, something quite understandably uncommon in Australia. He plays for the competitive team in Adelaide, and we went to see him play on Saturday evening (the Adelaide Avalanche versus the Sydney Bears). Although Aubyn only got two shifts, being one of the rookies, the Avalanche won handily, and we went out with the team for dinner to a slick bar, feeling quite underdressed since all the players were required to wear suits.

Liz and I with Barbara, Aubyn, and Winston in Adelaide

We then set off into the heart of outback Australia for our nine-day guided adventure! Read the next post above for all the crazy details!

Leaving the comfort and relative warmth of the Gold Coast, we headed down into New South Wales, stopping for coffee at the coastal holiday town of Yamba. Having been spoiled by five straight nights with a handy toilet, sink and shower, we opted to stay the night in a caravan park at Coff’s Harbour.

We turned inland to follow the Waterfall Way – recommended by Liz’s mom – a winding road up onto the continental divide, passing a number of wild national parks and, of course, numerous waterfalls. Our first stop was Dorrigo National Park, wherein we had a quick stop at the Sky Walk, an elevated walkway sticking straight out over a steep hillside, with sweeping views of the forested slopes on the eastern side of the Divide, which drops a thousand meters over only a few kilometers. Next up was our first waterfall of the day, Dangar Falls, a pretty little drop on the outskirts of Dorrigo Township, where we could not find a place to watch the end of Game 6 of the Stanley Cup Finals, as the only bar in town that carried ESPN had yet to open for Sunday business (fortunately, we later found out that Edmonton won).

View from Skywalk in Dorrigo NP

We drove deeper into the heart of the Tablelands atop the Divide, stopping for a walk at the two-drop Ebor Falls, and taking a detour up to Lookout Point in New England National Park to find only cold and thick fog at the summit. One last waterfall in Wollomombi National Park, and we entered the wintry agricultural tableau at the heart of the Tablelands. Although there was no snow in sight, the cold crisp air, leafless trees, rolling fields of golden grass, and harsh low-angle sunlight combined to mimic an early Prairie winter. Pretending that we couldn’t see our every breath and ignoring the numbness in our toes, we kept driving, passing through the former gold-mining town of Uralla and stopping for a quick break at the agricultural town of Walcha. As the sun set over grazing cattle and parched yellow grass, we once again drove coastward, re-entering the forested eastern slopes of the Divide just as the sun dipped below the horizon. Now having had plenty of experience driving after dark in Australia (sometimes due to poor planning, but more often simply because of the shortened winter days), something not recommended by anyone with half a mind to stay alive, we pressed onward through the dark woods, down the winding, narrow road. Our trusty source (Liz’s mom) had tipped us off about a free camping spot on the edge of the Ellenborough River in the tiny town of the same name. It only took us a few passes in the dark to pick a road to turn down, and we eventually found the camping/picnic spot, pitch black, secluded, empty, and a bit creepy. No koalas were to be heard in the trees, as had been reported.

Ebor Falls and Liz in Walcha

We hit the coast the next morning in the form of Port Macquarie, a fair-sized town where we ate breakfast overlooking the harbour, and visited the library and gym. And now for some driving, down the coast towards Sydney, stopping for the night at a busy rest-stop near the town of Ourimbah. We had decided to skip Sydney this time through because of our tight schedule with the campervan, and instead explore that huge city for a couple of days on our way out of the country at the end of July. Thus, it came as a surprise when we got mired in ridiculous morning rush-hour traffic while trying to skirt the outer outer outer suburbs. Finally, after several hours stuck in traffic, we arrived in Windsor, one of the outermost suburbs, where we had hoped to find a place to watch Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals. As the game had already started (10am local time), we screeched to a halt at the first promising spot: The Jolly Frog Family Hotel. For the record, apart from the big chains, anything called a hotel in Australia is usually comprised of a bar, maybe some pool tables and slot machines (‘pokies’) on the first floor, with a number of guest rooms on the upper floor(s) for anyone wishing to fall drunkenly into bed without the usual pre-requisite stumble home; a stereotype to which this hotel adhered quite well, complete with the morning alcoholics coming down for a few pints at 10am, although to be fair it was quite well-kept and even had a free coffee machine next to the pokies (put to good use by the two of us – the coffee, not the pokies). As an aside, everything in Australia is nick-named by taking the original word, chopping off the end and adding –ies (eg. sunglasses become sunnies, politicians are polies, kindergartners are kindies, labourers are workies, tradesmen are tradies, old people are oldies, students are schoolies), something that is not only limited to conversation, but appears to be embedded in even the most sobering newspaper articles.

Of course, all of this rambling is to avoid mentioning the fact that after numerous instant cappuccinos and almost three hours of intense hockey action, of which we’d been starved for so long, the Oilers couldn’t pull off a final brilliant against-all-odds comeback. Of course, in my wildest dreams, I never imagined that they’d get so far this year, and it was with some disbelief that I had tracked their success in each series up to that point.

Putting the disappointment behind us, we again drove up into the Great Dividing Range, entering the ever-popular Blue Mountains National Park west of Sydney. After a couple of hours, having enough of driving for the time being, we stopped for a half-hour walk near Pierce’s Pass through trees and scrub to a lookout over an awe-inspiring forested canyon. Pressing on through the coal-town of Lithgow, we turned off the main highway and made for the Jenolan Caves, an extensive series of commercialized limestone caves in the heart of the Blue Mountains. As darkness set in, we turned down the narrow controlled-access road towards the Jenolan Caves, we rolled to a stop at a desolate, run-down, and very creepy rest stop on the edge of a managed forest, deep in the mountains, having seen no traffic for some time.

Canyon near Pierce’s Pass

After a night spent hunkered down in the cold campervan, with a leech-between-the-toes incident (Liz) early in the morning, we drove the final narrow, winding stretch to the caves, where we spent a few hours exploring the surrounding hills and limestone formations on foot since we had insufficient funds to pay for a cave tour, visiting the Devil’s Coachhouse, Carlotta’s Arch, and a local wallaby, before driving back through the Grand Arch, past brilliant blue lake and up the narrow winding access road. The weather deteriorated as we made for Katoomba, the biggest town in the mountains, and by the time we arrived to what should have been brilliant views of deep limestone canyons and pillars, including the Three Sisters, we found only dense fog and rain. A consolation visit to the bakery, and we pressed onwards, trying to make up some distance while the weather was crappy. Coming out of the mountains, we turned down the big and busy Hume Highway running from Sydney to Melbourne, motoring for a few hours and eventually veering south towards Canberra, the nation’s capital.

Jenolan Caves: the lodge; peering at workers in the Devil’s Coachhouse; the abandoned back entrance to Devil’s Coachhouse; kangaroo on access road

After spending the night at another rest stop, this one on the edge of a vast flat plain ringed by high hills, we spent the day exploring Canberra and surrounds. Following a quick stop at the gym and a used bookstore, we made our way to the Australian War Memorial, the most expensive-looking war museum in which I’ve ever set foot. We watched the multimedia re-enactment of a Battle of Britain bombing mission to Berlin, complete with a real bomber, two massive video screens, and an extensive array of lights and speakers, followed by a similar presentation of the Japanese submarine attack on Sydney Harbour in 1943, complete with a rebuilt midget submarine. We then wandered among a large and varied collection of military aircraft, vehicles, armament, and varied paraphernalia (incl mobile field periscope!). By the time we decided that we had better get moving or risk seeing nothing else of Canberra, we’d only covered a small fraction of the museum’s displays.

Australian War Memorial, Canberra

When it was decided that Australia must have a new capital city, Canberra was created by soliciting planning proposals from across the globe. What resulted was a city of five centers, each surrounded by roads forming concentric rings, with straight roads linking them like spokes on a wheel. The two major centers are on either side of Lake Burley Griffin, and with the major political center on the south side (Parliament House, embassies, National Library, National Gallery, High Court) and the major economic center on the north side (a normal sort of downtown). Leaving the Australian War Memorial on the north side of the lake, we quickly became entangled in the confusing layout, succumbing to a fate apparently quite common to visitors. We eventually managed to find our way across the lake, and after a couple of spins around the political wheel, we eventually made in to New Parliament House, wherein we caught both the House of Representatives and the Senate during Question Period. The House of Representatives was quite the zoo, with hecklers often (or usually) drowning out whoever was speaking, and the Speaker seemingly having no control over the proceedings, especially when the Prime Minister, John Howard, rose to answer a question. It’s a miracle that democracies anywhere ever get anything done. The building itself is quite unlike traditional European-styled seats of democracy. Built only eighteen years ago, it is quite striking, with a central square-pillared structure flanked by grassy sloped rooftops, all placed on top of a hill smack in the center of a kilometers-wide park.

New Parliament House, Canberra

Deciding that we’d had enough of Canberra after touring the embassy district, we headed out on a big loop to the southwest through an area that had once been a state forest, but had fallen to an enormous and devastating firestorm in January 2003. Incredibly, almost the entirety of the hundreds of square kilometers had been cleared of charred wood, leaving only a few scorched-but-living trees and thousands of recently-planted seedlings. We stopped first at the Mt Stromlo Observatory, run by the Australian National University, which suffered extensive damage during the 2003 firestorm. Hot enough to melt glass, it destroyed most of the buildings and all but one of the telescopes. As the sun dipped towards the hills through which we drove, we passed some friendly kangaroos en route to the Canberra Space Centre, a NASA-run ear to the universe. Although the visitors area housed a model of the Mars rover and some riveting attempts to debunk the moon landing conspiracy theories, we were somewhat unimpressed by the barbed wire fence and guard post preventing us from climbing all over the Big Dish. It looked like it might be fun. Then once again driving in the dark we bumbled our way around, spotting a friendly wombat, and finally finding the right highway south. We headed down the Great Dividing Range towards the southern coast, stopping for the night in the (*gasp*) ski town of Cooma. Our feelings of disappointment after failing to climb the Big Dish were unrelieved by the fact that the only viable stopping place for the evening was a caravan park named Snowtels. I have told countless people by now – visitors centre employees as well as fellow travelers – I didn’t come halfway around the world to Australia of all places just to go skiing! I rigorously maintain that I do not want to see snow.

Fire-ravaged telescope building at Mt Stromlo; The Big Dish (Deep Space 43) at the Canberra Space Centre

With the dawn of a crisp and sunny new day, we headed to the Cooma visitor’s centre to get the goods on the trip south: what to see and what to do along the Monaro Highway through the Snowy Mountains. The key point of interest was the platypus sanctuary at Bombala. Imagine our surprise when an hour and a half later, instead of frolicking with platypuses in a highland swamp (or arriving to find there were none, since they only come out at dawn and dusk), we stumbled upon the cheese-producing town of Bega, home to our most favouritest of cheeses, Bega So Extra Light Tasty 50% Less Fat. As much as we like our cheese, having gone through at least six 500g blocks of it since arriving back in Australia, we were dumbfounded that our map could be so inaccurate as to pretend that Bega and Bombala were separated by 100 kilometers horizontally and 1000 meters vertically, when quite obviously they were so close that it would quite simple and not-stupid-at-all to mistakenly end up in one when looking for the other. Alternatively, we are so in tune with nature that we rolled as water down the mountain watershed and out to the ocean, with no awareness of our meandering course. “Utter poppycock!” you say? Well, consider this: stuff it.

The rest of the day was spent driving along the coast, crossing the border into Victoria, and driving a whole lot more. After one aborted rest stop camping attempt, we eventually arrived at the tiny town of Yanakie several hours after dark, just north of Wilson’s Promontory National Park: our playground for the following day.

Just two hours south of Melbourne, Wilson’s Promontory NP is Victoria’s most popular national park, and for good reason: it contains wild expanses of low shrubland, forested mountains, windswept coastal hills, and vast beaches. Although we arrived on a Saturday, the entire park was nearly deserted, presumably because most people stay indoors on cold, rainy winter days. Since we are not most people, we tied our boots and set off into the heart of the park, driving down to the little administrative centre at Tidal River, and from that base, winding through a series of walking tracks for four hours (15 km). Our route included a climb up Mt Bishop, with sweeping coastal views; a tall eucalyptus forest that showed signs of a centuries-old fire; the southernmost rainforest in Australia; coastal heathland that had recently been burned by the park managers in order to deter the encroachment of tea trees; a memorial to Rangers who have lost their lives in the course of duty; and a high overlook with views of Tidal River and surrounding hills. Within the park’s confines, we saw innumerable kangaroos and wallabies, a handful of emus, and one dead wombat.

Wilson’s Promontory National Park, Victoria

A night at a caravan park in Korumburra was followed by a frantic morning trying to navigate (and avoid) the toll roads into Melbourne, ultimately arriving at Federation Square in the heart of the city at midday on a Sunday, with weekend crowds exploring downtown architecture and shopping. We got some advice from the friendly folks at the Melbourne Visitor’s Centre and headed west to Ashley Gardens Big 4 Holiday Park. Parking the van, we took the bus back into the city centre and spent a few hours strolling about among the throngs and soaking up the energy of the city. Being three and a half million strong, Melbourne takes more than a day to explore… so we gave it a day and a half, coming back the next morning on the bus and wandering around until sunset. Our random itinerary included a fully functional replica of the first Dutch ship to sight Australia in 1606, now moored at Victoria Harbour; a short ride on the free tram (trams are major business in Melbourne); a coffee and paper at Gloria Jean’s; booking our Uluru (Ayers Rock), Kakadu NP, Darwin tour and flight; a stroll through Federation Square, eyeing the bigscreens where each Australian World Cup soccer match is broadcast to screaming fans in the middle of the night Australian Eastern Standard Time (one of four outdoor locations in Melbourne); a wander over to the famed Melbourne Cricket Ground, peeking through the doors to catch a glimpse of the heart of the enormous stadium; another short voyage of discovery on the free tram; and a brisk walk through across downtown to catch the right bus back to camp. We can now report that Melbourne is big and full of life; stay tuned for comparisons to Sydney and a determination of which city wins.

A day in Melbourne (incl Liz crushing tall buildings with her fist)

We’re now setting off to drive the Great Ocean Road, a stretch of incredibly gorgeous coastal highway west of Melbourne towards Adelaide. We have only three and a half days left with the campervan, which is a mixed blessing considering that it’s so cold that our olive oil has congealed. We’ll arrive in Adelaide on June 30^th, spend a couple of days with Liz’s relatives there, take the bus up to Alice Springs, and then hop on a nine day tour to Uluru, a bunch of other places in the desert, Kakadu National Park, and eventually to Darwin, from whence we will fly back to Brisbane, near the Gold Coast.

Having had enough of warm weather (or being entirely off our rockers), we headed south from Cairns, making our way through Innisfail, an area ravaged by a category five cyclone (hurricane) only last month. The damage was obvious (downed trees, tarp-covered roofs, dirt everywhere, sparsely-vegetated trees), but rebuilding efforts were well underway, and there were plenty of road crews out. We paused for an hour or two at Mission Beach, enjoying the afternoon sun and feeling slightly guilty that we were lazing on the beach while the locals continued to clear away the storm-strewn mud and trees. Fortunately, the official line is that they are desperate for the tourists to return in order to prop up that part of the local economy.

We enjoyed low stress and ease of toilet access by stopping overnight at a legal highway rest area, followed by the drive down to Townsville. The biggest town in North Queensland seems like it would be a great place to live: beautiful long beaches, warm and sunny weather, great architecture and deserted streets (it was a Sunday). We again opted for the low stress option and drove another hour south to the next legal rest stop.

Liz on the beach at Townsville

We finally arrived to sun and sand at Airlie Beach, gateway to the Whitsunday islands, the jewel of the East Coast with warm weather, white sand beaches, and the southern end of the Great Barrier Reef. Since the area is famous for its sailing opportunities, we promptly visited a number of the local booking centers, coming away with a good standby rate for a 3 day / 3 night package on an eighty foot Maxi racing yacht called Spank Me. We set sail at 3pm, everyone asked to toss their shoes in a bag as they boarded. Twenty-six passengers and four crew spread out on the open deck of the yacht as we rode the winds out amongst the islands, relaxing and enjoying a gorgeous, fiery sunset. As darkness closed in, we came to rest in a little bay and dropped the anchor. Unfortunately, once the wind shield had been dropped down from the boom, creating an open-ended tent on deck, the smoke from twenty lit cigarettes was trapped in the poorly ventilated structure, and the only respite for the rest of the evening was either to duck out into the biting wind, or head down below to the close and stuffy bunks below deck. Food on board was necessarily bland given the number of different palates and restrictions created by a four-square-foot galley, and resulted in overdone spaghetti and meat sauce the first night.

Day Two began with a deafening rumble as the skipper started the engine at 6:30 in the morning, before any of the passengers had thought to roll out of their bunks. Given that the inside of the boat was really just one big room lined with bunks and centered on the engine block, sleeping was made somewhat difficult once we had gotten underway. With most people still making a valiant effort to ward off the demons of consciousness, I made my way above deck to take in the colourful sunrise over patchy cloud and green islands. Unfortunately, as we munched on cereal and croissants (everyone in Australia and New Zealand seems to drink whole milk – grrrr), rainshowers settled in, making our stop at Whitehaven Beach, apparently one of the top ten beaches in the world, an exercise in imagination: what would it be like in sunshine and warm weather? Amazing! Incredible! Very fine hot white sand and crystal blue water. Fortunately we’d brought our books, beach towel and rainjackets, and settled into the shelter of some rocks to wait the hour and a half until the launch came back to get the lot of us. Back on the boat, we sailed around a few islands and moored at a public buoy, eating lunch and getting into our wetsuits for our first diving and snorkeling in the fringing reef. Liz and I took the shuttle over to the beach and took in some sun before snorkeling for a bit. Unfortunately, by the time our group was up for diving, the sun was too low in the sky, and our complimentary dive was postponed to the following day. By the time we’d gotten back to the boat, all the afternoon tea and biscuits had been gobbled up. Burritos for supper were followed by some jolly drinking and conversation under the wind shield. I ducked out for a while to escape the smoke and sat on a folded sail in the bow, contemplating the moon and stars.

We were supposed to sail to the outer reef in the morning of Day 3 to dive and snorkel at the real reef, but the sea was so rough that even the hardiest dive boats had come in to the shelter of the islands. We therefore had to settle for the fringing reef around the islands, and went for our morning dive in the bay where we’d spent the night. Despite having to settle for the fringing reef, my first diving experience was great! We went down about 15 meters and swam around the coral, seeing many many colourful fish and a sting ray. No giant fish or sharks, but there’s always next time. There’ll be plenty of next times once I get my PADI certification, which I’ve been meaning to do for a few years now. Diving with an instructor is somewhat restrictive. After some plumbing trouble that delayed our departure by a couple of hours in the afternoon, we set sail once again, heading around the islands to a calmer bay for our overnight mooring. We finally got to see what our racing yacht was made of, cruising along over the big swell of the open ocean, the boat tipped way over to make the most of the wind, waves crashing over the bow, drenching all the passengers clinging to the deck, wind whipping their clothes. Liz and I were perched up on the higher side, soaking up the experience and trying to take photos with our disposable underwater camera. Very bland Thai curry chicken was again followed by rowdy drinking and lively conversation. Along with a few friends, the Irish contingent stayed up quite loudly and quite late, telling jokes and drinking the boat dry.

Day Three-and-a-half dawned cold, wet, and windy, but after some consideration, Liz and I took a deep breath and put on our wetsuits for morning snorkeling, two of only six to risk the water. With so many fish and an underwater camera, we had a great time splashing around. That experience, along with the incredible sailing on the way back into port, tipped the scales, making the trip a success rather than a drizzly, cold flop.

Sailing in the Whitsundays

Back in Airlie Beach, we got right back on the road, staying the night at a cheap, but well-provided caravan park on the side of the highway. We passed quickly through Mackay and turned inland, making our way through the increasingly sparse landscape to a tiny little village of ramshackle houses and caravans called Sapphire. We’d pre-arranged to meet up with Bob and Joy, retiree friends of Liz’s uncle Martin, who head in to Sapphire for two weeks to fossick for sapphires. They are among the large number of Australian city-dwellers who own a claim on a little patch of hinterland, spending two months of every year living in a caravan on their claim and digging holes in the hope of finding gemstones. We spent two nights with them, scraping a few buckets of stones from a buried riverbed, sieving, washing, and searching through them during the intervening day. Although we found a few tiny sapphires in our efforts near their claim, we had far more success with the bucket of wash (excavated riverbed) that Bob and Joy bought for us to search through at one of the many local cafés. We had a great time and got a few little souvenir sapphires in the process.

Fossicking for sapphires in Sapphire, QLD

After the Saturday market, we headed back to the coast, driving six hours to Hervey Bay, where we planned to park in Bob and Joy’s driveway. While creeping around the perimeter of the house in the dark, looking for the eighty-year-old house-sitter whom we later learned had departed the day before, we were interrupted by the neighbours from down the street. Fortunately Bob and Joy had given us a package for them and we quickly made friends. They were more than happy to give us a key to the house so that we could cook, take showers, and relax in front of the TV. We stopped by the neighbours’ for tea the next morning, before going to the tour booking office and deciding against a trip to sunny and sandy Fraser Island because of the cost in time and money. We decided to laze around for the day and pamper ourselves, renting a movie and making nachos and pizza; more indulgence than in three months. Following a quick stop at the gym the next morning, we began driving down the coast again through Noosa, finally stopping for the night at a rest area just south of the town of Nambour.

Sunset on the highway south of Rockhampton

We were at the Big Pineapple for opening, a pineapple farm and tourist operation owned by the big Australian pineapple firm Golden Circle (Liz wants to re-live all of her childhood memories ). Although we decided that $15 was too much for the tour, we had lots of fun climbing up the big pineapple and looking out over the pineapple fields. Then off to our big stop for the day: Steve Irwin’s (the Crocodile Hunter) Australia Zoo!!

Liz at the Big Pineapple and Ettamogah Pub, indulging her nostalgia

Although entry was quite steep at $43, the pain was mitigated by the knowledge that Steve and his wife Terri use the proceeds of the zoo for conservation and wildlife rescue operations, including an adjacent animal hospital and rehab center. We spent the entire day at the zoo, hand-feeding elephants, taking in the big snake-tiger-crocodile-bird main event at the Crocoseum, learning about introduced camels and feral foxes, watching a Tasmanian devil chase its tail, being amazed by overactive koalas, hand-feeding kangaroos, gawping at cheetahs and cassowaries, and cringing at sight of deadly snakes. The zoo was almost deserted by the time we finally left as the sun dipped towards the horizon. Figuring that Brisbane would simply be another big city and we could visit late in July if need be, we skipped it in favour of making the Gold Coast for the night so that we could stay at Liz’s grandparents’. This is where we have been relaxing for the past day and a half, enjoying the sun that we’d finally found.

A day at Australia Zoo

Sunset over the smoky Glasshouse Moutains south of Australia Zoo

We’ll take off again tomorrow to make the most of our campervan, winding our way towards Sydney and Melbourne, bracing ourselves for record cold temperatures (it dipped below freezing down there the last few nights!!). Once we drop the campervan in Adelaide at the end of the month, we’ll likely take the train to Alice Springs and join a nine day tour up to Uluru (Ayers Rock) and up through the outback to Darwin, visiting the wild and famous Kakadu National Park along the way. Due to financial constraints, we’ll probably fly back to the Gold Coast for our last two weeks in Australia rather than making a whirlwind journey out to Perth on the west coast.

Gold Coast at dusk

Everyone who’s been a bit jealous of us the past few months will surely feel a little better once we’re freezing our butts off again. You’ll be happy to know that ESPN Australia bought the broadcast rights to the Stanley Cups finals at the very last minute, and we were able to catch Game 5 here on the Gold Coast. Since Edmonton is being pesky and managed to scratch out a win, we’re left with the task of finding somewhere to watch Game 6 while we’re wandering down the coast!

I’ve done it again: taken so long between posts that I must break my story up into sections, or fear the wrath of an audience bored to the brink of death by my aimless ramblings. Therefore, look below to the previous post for the final story of New Zealand, since this post will busy itself with novel news of Australia.

Arriving in the early evening to low petrol prices (only $1.30!) and balmy temperatures, we set all of our stuff down at Liz’s grandparents’ house, to enjoy a couple of days of rest and relaxation on the ever sunny Gold Coast. Temperatures had by now dropped to highs of around 22 degrees: as icy as the depths of winter, I’m told!

On the 26^th of May, we flew up to the Cairns in the tropical north, where tourist season is just getting started. Staying the night at a hostel in town (a room, having abandoned the tent on the Gold Coast), we got up in the morning and picked up our home for the next 35 days: a Toyota Hi-Ace campervan from Backpacker Campervans. Slightly narrower and shorter than a full-size North American Van, it packs a fridge, microwave (requiring outside power), cupboards (complete with dishes, pots, pans, and a French press coffee maker, and a big table with two long benches that altogether transform into a double bed. With its somewhat ugly high top, it has headroom enough to stand up, and a small transformation could theoretically supply a little loft in which a third vagrant could sleep.

We set off to explore Cape Tribulation and Daintree National Park, with all its sociable crocodiles and cassowaries. Having left Cairns late in the day, we were ill-prepared for our first night of free-parking-wherever-we-please-and-to-heck-with-the-law, which resulted in a nervous midnight stay on the side of a little street in a new, rich development in the little town of Mossman. The problem with our campervan is that it sticks out like a big white-and-orange sore thumb, of which the local residents must have been somewhat suspicious upon waking to a beautiful Saturday morning. Happy and relieved that nothing ill had befallen us during our first night in the van, we cut back half an hour to visit the market at Port Douglas, eat breakfast by the beach, and lie on the sand for an hour. We then headed up, across the Daintree River on a little cable ferry, towards Cape Tribulation, and into the most remote and unpopulated part of the East Coast. In defiance of the warning signs placed every few kilometers, not one cassowary deigned to cross our path and chance being hit. These ostrich-sized birds are apparently pretty dangerous if you’re on foot, and if you see one, you’re instructed to back away slowly for fear of being clawed to death.

After the anxiety of the previous night’s stay, we chose to park (legitimately) in a real (and very cheap) campground at Noah Beach, run by the state’s wildlife and parks service. We spent plenty of time that day and the next sunning ourselves on the beach, with only brief intermissions to explore the local flora and fauna; unfortunately (or fortunately), no crocodiles or cassowaries to be spotted, but a big Lace Monitor and a few wild turkeys came out to play.

Cape Tribulation

Having recovered somewhat from the stress of our first night of free-parking, we came to rest for the night in the fairly isolated gravel lot beside the pristine beach at Cow Bay, and spent the evening walking on the beach and making a leisurely meal. The next morning, we set off south again, crossing back over the ferry and driving down to the long, lovely, sunny, and sandy Ellis Beach, just north of Cairns, at which we’ve spent the better part of two days, leaving only to spend the night at a cheap caravan park in the nearby-but-far-more-touristy Palm Cove. Our campervan has been parked right beside the beach, and we’ve alternated between beach sunshine, ocean frolicking, and contemplative relaxation in the campervan, with the door open and the rhythms of the ocean constant and soothing in the background. We chose to bring Liz’s laptop on this part of our Australian adventure, and I’m therefore typing this as I sit next to the beach, looking up to the ocean for inspiration when I’m at a loss for words. I think we’re adjusting well to this whole vagrant-campervan-Australian-beach-bum thing that’s so popular over here. To be complete though, we’d need to have bought a hippy styled van, and brought along a good supply of pot. There aren’t many times in my brief history that could hope to rival this moment for relaxation.

Cow Bay in the morning

A break from the sun at Ellis Beach

We’ve now made our way back down to Cairns, and will pause for supplies, perhaps parking illicitly along the road, before continuing south on our 3500km journey to Adelaide (June 30^th). Hopefully we get lots and lots of beach weather in Queensland before we hit colder winter temperatures in New South Wales, Victoria, and South Australia. Plans after Adelaide are a bit murky at this point as the financing has yet to be pondered. I continue, intermittently, to try to sort out my life-after-Australia, but things on that front aren’t progressing all that quickly, perhaps owing in part to the intensity of relaxation.