Driving. A lot.

Driving south out of Airlie Beach, we had about 1200 kms to cover to get to Byron Bay, and we decided that driving through the night might not be the best thing, especially as we ended up leaving Airlie sometime in afternoon. We pulled off the road sometime around 10 PM at a non-descript gas station somewhere south of Mackay and pitched our tents. We seem to make a habit of finding spots near train tracks since there are usually fewer homes the closer you get to the tracks, and some guys bumbling around at night with headlamps is less likely to attract attention. This was the closest spot I think we have found yet, and we were woken a couple of times during the night by the train blowing by just a few steps from our tents. Once I awoke and in a haze thought that we may made the mistake of putting our tents on the tracks, but then fell back asleep after I wasn't pulverized.

The next day we got up early, as we usually do when dirt camping, and hit the road. Before lunch we stopped at The Capricorn Caves and went on a one-hour tour of the cave system. The cave system is privately owned as an Australian pulled a fast one on the government back in the day when land grants were being given out for next to nothing. Situating the caves in the back section of his claim and gambling that the government inspector would not take the time to walk all 83 acres, it turned out to be wise risk and a great investment. Public tours have in fact been going on for over 130 years, which means John Olsen made a good return on his $10 investment in 1884. Bats slipped soundlessly past our faces as our guide told us that as long we made no sudden movements there was little chance of them bouncing into us, so we slowly and methodically followed our guide.

With our car giving us a problem-free ride so far, this record was finally tarnished by a flat tire on the highway. An Aussie pulled up literally seconds after we stopped to ask if we needed help, but we thanked him and told him we could manage. Jordache and Kyle did the bulk of the work as I documented it with the camera, and we were back on the road is less than ten minutes, with the majority of the work being unloading all our gear out of the back to get at the spare.

Around nine in the evening we pulled into a gas station that actually had a shower in the bathroom, which was a pleasant surprise. While Kyle and I waited for Jordache we spent the time eliminating some cane toads. Cane toads were originally introduced to Australia to combat a sugar cane pest, but with no natural predators they have proliferated to the point of upsetting the natural ecosystem. The conscientious ecologist that I am, I spent about twenty minutes with a paving stone doing my bit for the environment.

We camped in a residential subdivision, bringing our free camp site total to twelve, and today we drove the rest of the day, getting into Byron Bay around lunch time. Jordache and I plan to spend the rest of our time in Australia here before flying out of Brisbane on March 6th and on to New Zealand.

Whitsunday Sailing to The Great Barrier Reef

After booking three last-minute spots on Thursday, we left Friday afternoon for a three day, three night cruise of the Whitsundays, a group of seventy-four islands just off the coast. The boat at full capacity can carry twenty-four passengers and a four-man crew, which would fill all the bunks below deck and necessitate the crew sleeping on deck in the open air. There were only fourteen passengers for our trip though, so there was a good amount of room - as much as can be expected on an eighty-four footer which isn't nearly as big as it sounds.

We were told to be ready to leave at 2:30 PM on Friday, and we sat with the rest of the passengers for an extra hour, finally leaving the harbor around 3:30 PM. It turned out our skipper had spent the night in jail for a drunken/disorderly and barely made it to the ship in time. It was a pretty young crew - the skipper was 23, the first mate was in his late thirties, the divemaster and cook were both 24. I think they were used to having rather wild groups aboard, but ours was pretty tame with most of the passenger electing to catch up on their sleep and read.

The first night we docked after about two and a half hours of motoring - the sea was so calm in fact that we only got under sail twice during the course of the trip. After spending the night in a bunk below deck and losing approximately half a dozen liters of sweat due to the stifling conditions, I decided I would have to find a better spot. One of the crew said that it was possible to climb into the rigging and sleep on the boom about eight feet above the deck, so this is what I did the second night. Rain woke me up though, and I climbed down during the night to find an empty bunk below deck. The second night I again tried sleeping above board, but this time I set up the sail so that when it rained, as it did a number of times again, I could throw the sail over myself and stay relatively dry. Laying parallel with the boom, there was nothing but open sky unaffected by city glow. The stars could be easily seen through the web of rigging above, and it was incredible to fall asleep as the mast was swung gently from side to side by the sea breezes.

The second day most of us did a dive, entering off the beach of one of the islands and going to depth for around fifteen minutes. Those who were not diving snorkeled, and after that we headed out to The Great Barrier Reef where we tied up the second night. It took about three hours to make it out to the reef, and it was incredibly relaxing to sit near the stern, catching the occasional cooling spray of water across my back. Flying fish would now and again burst out of the wake and flit a few seconds ahead of the boat before diving back into the water. Aside from that there was little to see, only the horizon and the islands getting progressively smaller.

I was not impressed by the first dive, and was hoping that the reef dive would make the trip worthwhile. I was in the first group of divers at the reef, and we all dropped in off the dinghy and began to descend. Keeping my eye on my depth gauge, I was surprised to see that I was already at 18 meters, and the ocean bed was still approximately 10 meters away. It turns out we had dropped in at the wrong spot, and after one of the beginner divers began hyperventilating and decided to opt out, the divemaster had us hold on to the dinghy as were towed over to another spot.

Unfortunately, the reef dive was not much of an improvement over the the island dive, and after I surfaced after forty minutes swimming over The Great Barrier Reef, I realized how spoiled I had been learning to dive in Madagascar. The diversity of ocean life, fish as well as coral was significantly better in Madagascar - even the visibility was quite a bit better. If we had gotten onto The Great Barrier Reef somewhere that wasn't daily visited by tourists, it might have been a richer experience, but I will have to come back someday to see if that's the case.

Fraser Island

The largest sand island in the world, Fraser Island, sits just a few kilometers off the east coast of Australia, and we caught the forty-five minute ferry over on Sunday. We rented a Land Cruiser in Hervey Bay and took off for three days and two nights to see as much of the island as possible. The driving through the interior of the island is fairly grueling, with the deep ruts and tree roots throwing vehicles from side to side as they plod along under the 30 km/hr speed limit. The one-way tracks necessitate one vehicle backing up if two meet going in opposite directions, but this only happened twice to us as we were there outside peak season.

We made our way to two lakes in the interior on consecutive days, the first being Lake Mackenzie. This lake has the clearest water I have ever seen, and we spent the first afternoon lazing around in the shallows before making our way down to the beach to camp. There are a number of dingo packs on the island, with over two hundred of them having been caught and tagged by the rangers. Getting off the ferry, we thought that if we could catch a glimpse of one we would consider ourselves lucky. Setting up our tents in the tree line just above the beach, a dingo wandered through our site and we were quick to pull out our cameras to take some shots. Disinterested in us, it lay down in the sand on the beach just out of sight and then trotted off. Cooking hotdogs that night down on the beach because the flies were so heavy at our camp site, three dingos showed up and began to move around the vehicle and the camp stove, obviously drawn by the smell of the meat. They got progressively braver as the night went on, and eventually we had to drive them away, yelling and kicking sand. They never disappeared, just retreated, and when we left to go back to the site they quickly moved in to lick up the water we had boiled the hotdogs in.

The next day we headed back into the interior to Lake Wabby, the deepest lake on the island. It sits at the base of a steep sand dune, so steep in fact that it is possible to run and dive off of the sand into the water. Signs warned against it, but it didn't stop us after checking out the depth of the water. There were countless catfish in the lake, and we spent a good amount of time killing flies and then tossing them into the water for the fish. From the slope of the dune, I counted over thirty catfish around Jordache as he flicked bits of sand and laughed at the stupid fish that thought it was edible. Vaulting off the dune, I attempted to catch a fish with my hands, and while I felt them bounce off my body as I broke the water, I could never get both hands on one.

After Lake Wabby, we drove along the beach, careful to keep track of the tide times to make sure we wouldn't get caught by waves moving up the beach. Exploring tidal pools and hiking trails, we got to the North end of the beach and then headed south back to our previous night's camp site.

Cliff Jumping

Heading North from Coffs Harbour, we got into Yamba in the mid-afternoon, which was recommended to us as a good place to surf. We didn't hit the surf and instead backtracked a bit to Angourie, a little town just south along the coast. We had heard at a hostel that there was place for cliff jumping at two freshwater pools at Angourie, and freshwater sounded more inviting than some more saltwater. There were two pools, the Blue Pool and the Green Pool, named for the level of algae in the water presumably. The Blue pool was the first one we got to, and the cliffs at that one topped out at around 20 feet. This wasn't much of a thrill, especially as a four-year old was jumping off around the 15 foot mark. His dad told us the Green Pool was the one to check out, so we headed over there. No one was there, and after trying to see how we could walk around onto the cliffs, we decided that the only way to get up the cliff face was to swim across and then scale the wall from the water.

Kyle decided he would go for it, and jumped into the water and swam across and climbed up to the lowest jump. The lowest was around 50 ft, and Kyle stood at that height for a while, wondering why it looked so much higher looking down than looking up. While we were waiting for Kyle, a group of four guys showed up, and the two who were the least drunk jumped into the water and began the climb. One of them got the to highest point, about 75 ft, and jumped off. Kyle decided that 50 ft wasn't that bad after all and quickly followed the first jumper from his own perch.

The next day, after camping in the parking lot, we headed back down to the Green Pool and each of us made the swim across the pool to make the climb. I stopped at the first opportunity and made the jump at the lowest point while Jordache climbed to the top. Getting there, he quickly realized that he would need a running start to clear the jump area approximately ten feet below him. Not allowing himself time to rethink his position, he took a few quick steps and launched himself into the air. The effort to clear the cliff face caused him begin a slow turn, and he hit the water at a bit of an awkward angle. He later told us he saw stars, and his rubber wrist band was forced up over his elbow onto his bicep from the force of hitting the water. Kyle and I made jumps from the middle area, and decided that we couldn't follow Jordache's jump from what the locals called "The Chalk Line."

Jordache's shoulders moved in concert with his neck for the next couple of days as he was pretty sore, and he was glad he had decided to strap on his knee brace before making the jump. Sleeping on the ground doesn't help that much either I guess.

Coffs Harbour and Stealth Camping

We have spent the last two nights in Coffs Harbour and today we hit the road and head north, probably stopping in either Yamba or Arrawarra for the night. On Tuesday we went to a waterpark here in Coffs and bedded down in the evening in a parking lot behind BBQs Galore beside a dumpster. We got up early to avoid detection, and Kyle went for the first day of his scuba diving course. Jordache and I spent the day surfing, and the waves were ideal for beginners, meaning they were rather small and no locals were on the water. Perfect. Jordache and I chatted with a local contractor at the beach as we geared up to get in the water. He had spent two years traveling around Australia as a youth, just chasing waves (and skirts from the sounds of it). Now in his forties, he doesn't surf that much anymore - "Not everday at least," he said.

One thing that Jordache is less than fond of is water, and in particular, sharks. So far he has been able to suppress any fear that would keep him out of the water, but talking to the local didn't help. The man said "Sure, sharks are out there. I mean, someone just got bit the other day down in Sydney. But to think of that just ruins the experience you know?" I watched Jordache as the guy said this with an air of bravado, and Jordache just slowly nodded. If thinking about sharks ruins the experience, being told all about sharks by a local probably falls into the same category of dissuasion.

Last night we camped in the same spot behind the BBQ warehouse, but we got there a little bit earlier than the night before. Too early it turned out. After we had set the last tent pin in the ground in the grass behind the dumpster, a security guard pulled up. He told us that he really couldn't let us stay there, but after chatting with him for a bit, he said he hadn't talked to us and that he hadn't seen us and that we could ignore the next security guard when the shift changed at midnight. Applauding our good fortune, we went to bed, and less than thirty minutes later we were woken by lights playing across the outside the tent and the words "Police. Who's in there?" We popped our heads out of our respective sleeping areas, Kyle and me in the tent and Jordache in the car, to see two police officers standing there. We were told the the officers had been given a report by a concerned citizen about some suspicious looking blokes in a station wagon. "That was would be us," we told him. With a bit of a twinkle in his eye, the one officer said "But we don't think you look suspicious. Make sure you are out of here early." And we went back to bed.

Learning to Surf

Surfing is hard. For one thing, there are a number a variables that you have to account for - unlike other sports where you can practice skills on a static surface. You can practice the steps needed to stand on the board while laying on your board on the beach, but you get pretty comfortable at this quickly. But don't make the mistake that this skill-set will work as smoothly in the water. Each wave is slightly different than the last, and they don't come in regular intervals either. Swimming out through the breakers to where the waves are is a necessary skill, and if you can't master that, then you might just have to stick with with surfing on the breakers a few inches high on a gigantic board and pretending that you are cool.

Running out into the surf, I jump onto my board as a breaker crests in front of me and then paddle with both hands toward the next breaker. Depending on whether the breaker is white or not, I either float over the top or duck-dive into it. My level of exhaustion also has to be taken into account, and if I am too tired to take a breath that will get me under the wave without taking in another gulp of sea water, I close my eyes and cling to my board and hope that I get over the top. Paddling hard after the second wave, I push through the third and continue paddling. My upper back begins to burn, and I glance to the side. Beside me, playing in shallows a couple feet deep are some children. I have made no forward progress whatsoever.

If by chance I can make a concerted effort to force my way through the surf, I turn the board back to the beach and drift, gathering my energy and waiting for a wave that I can catch. If a wave doesn't catch me and roll me, scraping me against the sand or knocking my head against the surfboard (I still have a swollen bump over my right eye), I wait for something that I might possibly be able to surf. Feeling the water gather behind me, I paddle furiously with both arms and then quickly bring them between my chest and my board. I bring my left foot forward and then my right foot past my planted left foot as I push my body upright. I am surfing. I yell at Kyle to get out of the way as I don't have the control necessary to carve around him, and he jumps to the side towards Jordache, eyes wide. After I break the surface of the water and gasp for breath, I look towards Jordache and Kyle. Kyle's board has hit Jordache squarely in the thigh, and Jordache is loudly voicing the possibility of a hematoma. A typical wave.

North from Sydney

Emboldened by our success in dirt camping in Torquay and Canberra, we decided we could probably score another free night in Sydney. Centennial Park sits in the middle of the city, and we pulled up to the curb on a street bordering the park at dusk around 10 in the evening. We got out our two tents and trekked into the trees looking for a place that wouldn't be easily seen from the road. Setting up the tents, we were startled to hear rustling in all the trees around us. Looking up, we could make out what we finally realized were bats winging through the dark. They were about the size of ravens, and while they were nearly soundless as they flew, getting in and out of the trees seemed not to require the same sort of stealthy approach as hunting through the air did, and this was the cracking and rustling we heard from the ground.

The rain came down hard during the night, and I woke in the morning with my feet in a puddle at one end of the tent. The rain must have come down in the middle of the night, because I had fairly well-developed dishpan feet, if there is such a thing. We broke camp at dawn, getting up before six to minimize the chance of someone reporting us. We headed north, getting into Newcastle in the evening, making one stop along the way. The rain didn't let up all day, at some times coming down in sheets, and visibility would have been poor even if the inside the car wasn't continually fogging up from our sopping camping gear. We did stop for a few hours in Dee Why where Jordache got himself a surfboard, hitting the surf as the rain beat down on the waves. We had limited success as the surf was quite choppy, but it was pretty exciting to be finally out in some serious water.

We pulled into Newcastle and got a hotel room at the infamous Formule1. Only $69, but you get what you pay for. A tiny room with a queen-size bed that only one person can walk around at a time, and four feet above the bed, running along the wall, is a cot. We had gotten the same room in Melbourne (Formule1 is a national budget chain), and were pretty disgusted with it. It is amazing what two nights in the woods will do to change your perspective, and after sleeping in a faulty tent in the rain, the hotel room looked pretty good to me. We hung our wet gear wherever we could, and then headed out in the morning with a renewed sense of purpose and slightly drier gear.

The last three nights we have been camping at a no-frills campground just outside of Crescent Head, paying $5 apiece a night and surfing as much as possible. There were bathrooms and two open-air showers and nothing other than that. We got used to being less than clean, but swimming in the sea twice a day leaves a film of salt, significantly better than a film of dirt.

Driving, Surfing, Sightseeing

So, we did end up getting the car this past Monday, and it is hard to believe it has been five days with wheels, because we have covered quite a bit of the country. We left Melbourne on Monday, driving through Torquay and onto the Great Ocean Road where we camped for free at the end of a dirt road off the highway. We have a two-man tent that we got with the car, and that night was the first and last night that the three of us crammed our way in. Jordache and Kyle slept one way, while I slept the other. I had more room, but they had the mesh door nearest them, and I got kicked in the head repeatedly through the night. All said and done, none of us got a good rest.

On Tuesday we continued west to the end of the Great Ocean Road and then turned around and got back into Torquay in the afternoon. We didn't pay for a camping spot, and instead found a vacant lot beside a plumbing supply store. After cruising around town for an hour looking for a suitable place, it seemed like the best bet. Jordache and Kyle had the tent to themselves as I elected to sleep on top of the car under the stars. We were up early to avoid any fines, and then headed north-east to Geelong.

We grudgingly decided that a campground (with showers) might be a good idea after two nights of dirt camping, and got a campground in Geelong. I slept on the roof again, and in the morning we decided that another tent might be a good idea. After picking one up, we headed north to Canberra where we arrived around 9:30 in the evening after a long day of driving. Talking to some college students dressed in togas at a gas station, we learned that the place to be that night was a nightclub called Academy, as they were having a foam party. It sounded like a good time, and the logic behind heading to the party was that if we closed it out, we wouldn't have to pay for a campground. After a couple of hours of dancing as a soapy foam was spewed over us, we left only to realize that it was 1:30 in the morning and we didn't have a place to sleep. We headed out to a park, followed a dirt road to a gate as kangaroos jumped out of the beam of our headlights and set up our two tents on the gravel. I was glad for the second tent when the rain started pouring down in the middle of the night, and we packed up our sopping gear in the morning as a few vehicles and a bicyclist passed by and some cattle looked wonderingly at us from their side of the fence.

Sydney was today's destination and Kyle picked up a surfboard and Jordache and I each plan to get one this evening. We rented boards for the afternoon in Torquay, and we have a bit of an idea of what we can handle. I guess the trick is to get something that you can ride now but will still be fun once standing up on the wave isn't an accomplishment in itself. Kyle had already been surfing a day, so he showed Jordache and I the steps to get up on the board. We both stood on our first wave, but we have a long way to go before we could say were "shredding it up."

If things slow down in the next few days, hopefully I will be able to think back and post some highlights of this past week, but at this rate we are seeing so much and doing so much that one post every week is going to be a bit of a chore to read. But as the Australians continually say "No worries."