Day 12: Darwin

Sadly, Eric had to jump ship at this point and return to work. At least he was on a domestic flight to Sydney, which allowed him to carry on the numerous bottled goodies we had purchased at the distillery. Unfortunately for the rest of us, we were on a flight terminating in Singapore after dropping us in Darwin, requiring some quick baggage shuffling as we were suddenly travelling on an international flight. The only thing we couldn’t squeeze into the pack was the four litre bladder of wine we’d taken out of its box. I decided to try to sneak it through the x-ray scanner – at least the lady seemed to find my attempt amusing.

I was more concerned when my name was called over the loudspeaker several minutes later, and I was escorted back through security to the ticketing desk to explain why I had explosives in my checked baggage. Why is it that we immediately feel a mixture of guilt and fear that we’re about to be in a bad movie when these things happen? Apparently, tent poles look much like fireworks through an x-ray machine. Despite the fact that when shown the photo I immediately identified them as tent poles, which seemed reasonable given that they were in a giant hiking backpack, I was asked to unpack the whole thing in front of a crowd.

We had thought Cairns was uncomfortably warm, but it had nothing on Darwin. The public swimming area is open and at capacity year-round, because you start to sweat the moment you exit the front door. That night, Angela and I had to take a dip in the hotel pool just to stop sweating before we went to bed. The sea surrounding the Northern Territory, which houses Darwin, is off-limits to smart swimmers due to the presence of man-eating crocodiles. With many Queensland beaches off-limits during parts of the year due to box jellyfish, I was beginning to realise how lucky I was to live in New South Wales where the water is merely cold instead of deadly.

Aside from the heat, the other noticeable characteristic of Darwin and the Northern Territory is the presence of aborigines. Most months in Sydney, I won’t see a single aborigine unless I go down to Circular Quay outside the Opera House and see the man who is always playing the didgeridoo. Sadly, most of them do not seem to be very prosperous, mostly hanging out in public parks or outside supermarkets.

Days 9, 10, and 11: Cairns

Our first day in Cairns, we rented an eensy-teensy clown car and drove north to Cape Tribulation, where paved roads give way to the jungle. Angela suggested that we attend an exotic fruit lecture, which I rejected as sounding, “f&cking awful.” Youth trumped experience here, and it was actually very interesting. This couple purchased the land without any idea how to use it and then hit on the idea of scouring the globe for exotic fruits they could grow for sale in local markets. He now consults with the UN and other organisations trying to introduce new crops to tropical, third world countries.

Along the way to and from Cape Tribulation, we stopped at open air markets, rainforest boardwalks, and scenic beaches. We were even lucky enough to see a family of cassowaries, an endangered bird species that can slice a human jugular with a wicked claw on his foot.


The next day, Angela’s birthday, we boarded a catamaran at 8 am for a day trip to the Great Barrier Reef. On two scuba dives we saw giant clams, Nemos, and a baby sea turtle. Sadly, the Reef is dying quickly, and since we were taken to popular tourist spots, we didn’t see many spectacular colours. That night we took Angela out for a meat festival at a Brazilian place in Cairns. Lord, that was a lot of meat.






On our last day in Cairns, we rented another clown car and drove south into the mountains. We visited a fruit distillery, which was in a corrugated metal shed but had a friendly host willing to let us taste all of his wares (after which we were all a bit drunk), a biodynamic dairy (we’re still not sure what this means except tasty cheese eaten at a picnic table under their trees), and a number of waterfalls on our way to Paronella Park.




Now, let me just say that Paronella Park has the best marketing I’ve ever seen. Unfortunately, it couldn’t quite live up to its hype. Essentially, a quixotic Spaniard dreamed of building a castle and chose to do so in rural Queensland near the sugar plantations where he’d made his fortune. He then opened it up as a recreation centre with pools, tennis courts, and a cinema for the local people. It was lovely, but I was expecting the Taj Majal after reading their brochures. Having driven so far, though, we stayed for both the day and night tours.



Our last night in Cairns we went to local brewery. Two American Naval ships were in town, and the 4th of July was only a couple of days distant, so the entire place, like much of the town, was draped in American flags. Given how much Australians pick on Eric and I for being American, he found it a little gross that they were pandering so much to the shore leave dollars. I thought it was kind of nice that the sailors felt so welcomed (especially by ladies in very small skirts that we saw on the streets) but could see his point.

On another point Eric and I agreed: we were too old for Cairns. It very much had an MTV Spring Break Beach Party feel, which has felt more slimy than electrifying since I was about 19 years old. The hostel where we were staying, like most hostels in the town, gave us vouchers for a free dinner each night at a pub up the road. After our adventures each day, we were generally pushing the 9:30 pm expiration time for our vouchers and the 10 pm start of the cheap beer special, when the place turned into a giant, throbbing meat market. Now, I’m generally told I look young for my age, but even if I could pass for 26, I’d be an old lady in this place. I felt like everyone was staring at me thinking, “Granny go home.” Would have helped if I’d brought underwear that could double as a skirt or skintight pleather pants or something.

Days 7 and 8: The Sunlander

Most of day 7 was actually spent re-supplying and hanging out at a nasty bus station waiting for transport to the train. (If you ever think the US has the monopoly on white trash, come to Australia.) The only real highlight was spending 30 minutes in a tiny town called Maryborough, so called because PL Travers, author of Mary Poppins, was born there. Bet you didn’t know she was Australian.

By the time we boarded the train that evening, we were glad to have a sleeper car and to only to have to interact with humanity in the bar car, where beer was just $5. Almost the entirety of day 8 was spent drinking and playing cards on the train, of which I won’t bore you with any details (which I don’t really recall anyway). At about 8 pm that night, we stepped off in Cairns and experienced hotter, more humid mid-winter weather than we could ever have imagined existed.

Days 4, 5, and 6: Fraser Island

We ferried over to the Fraser Island in the rain and proceeded to see all of the renowned sights on the touristy eastern side of the island through the drizzle (they were crap). The main attraction of Fraser Island for most guests is that the entire eastern side of the island is a huge, hard-packed beach on which you can drive, and indeed land airplanes. There’s nothing so disconcerting as seeing signage indicating that your road is also a landing strip.

By 3 pm, we were done in with the rain and looked in at the K’Gari aboriginal campsite to seek refuge. While the large, open-air huts had been rented out to another group of 6 or 7 Irish boys, they agreed to let us stay with them. Our aboriginal hosts had agreed to demonstrate playing the didgeridoo that evening, but by 9 pm most of us had consumed several litres of wine each and were not musically inclined. Starting drinking at 3 pm may not have been our best idea, but there’s not much to do in a hut in the rain. We did learn that only men are allowed to play the didgeridoo, although there are large plastic tubes that women can play. We were also warned against whistling at night or spitting in the fire, although no further explanation was given.

The camp also had a mostly-friendly dingo. Fraser Island is filled with dingos, and there are signs everywhere showing small children being whisked off by packs of dogs.

Next day we took off to see the forbidden west side of the island. Along the way, we saw lots of scribbler gums. The larvae of this animal are laid inside the tree and eat their way out, creating these weird patterns.



The 4WD rental companies only allow their vehicles to be taken on the touristy, eastern beach; because others are more rule-abiding, we had the entire beach to ourselves. We made a picnic lunch and hiked an hour up the snow-white beach past thousands of suicidal sea slugs gasping their last breaths. Back in our campsite was a freshwater river emptying to the sea with a rope swing. As the sunset, we took turns swinging out into the water, swimming down the river a bit, and circling back for another turn. It was just idyllic. That night we drank wine and ate cheese as we watched the sun set over the ocean and then cooked by headlamp on the tailgate.

Our last day on the island, we drove on tracks through the middle, which took us past a number of the freshwater lakes. I should mention that the sea surrounding Fraser Island is so shark infested that you are strongly advised against swimming in it. Hence the popularity of the freshwater lakes! The water in the lakes is so fresh and clear that you can safely drink it.

That night, we had been told by our hostel owner in Hervey Bay to camp outside the Kingfisher Bay resort. After a frantic dash to and fro around the resort, Eric and I decided just to get a hotel room. Since we hadn’t showered since Brisbane, it was about time anyway. We were boarding a train for 26 hours the next day, so I’m sure our fellow passengers appreciated our splurge.

Day 3: Tilt Train to Hervey Bay

Our hostel in Hervey Bay

The next morning we hiked through the rain to the train station with our giant packs. Unfortunately, we had quite a long walk to the Mango Tourist Hostel on the other end as well. The hostel owner was a riot. He asked us how we planned to travel to Fraser Island and what we intended to do there, interjecting, “That’s unfortunate,” at each step as he told us how we’d gone wrong with our planning. Not sure what he thought we could to correct things at that point. According to him, the best and most economical way to see Fraser Island was by private yacht. Uh, yeah.

Days 1 and 2: Brisbane

We began our trip in Brisbane, which is about an hour’s flight north of Sydney on the east coast of Australia and is the gateway to tropical Queensland. Although not far from Sydney, Brisbane is often a few degrees warmer and more humid. Brisbane is the capital of the state of Queensland and the third largest city in Australia with a whopping two million people. I hate it. It seems to be rather too crowded for a city of its size. However, it was Angela’s favourite city in Australia. This is only because she hasn’t been to Perth.

Like most travellers, we realised just hours after leaving home how many things we had forgotten. Angela needed some flip-flops, or thongs as they are called here (which I still find difficult to say in public). We popped into a surf shop on the main outdoor shopping district, and Angela began her quest for the perfect plastic shoe. Dylan, impatient after a few minutes but not abandoning ship as Eric had already, came up to Angela with a brown pair he had found, slapped them down, exclaimed, “Problem solved!,” turned on his heel, and left. Upon inspection, these were actually the ugliest flip-flops in the store and not even Angela’s size. But the catchphrase of our month-long adventure had been born! Problem solved!

On my visit to Brisbane for work about a month earlier, which was over a weekend, I had taken a cruise up the river to the Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary, opened in 1927. The Mirimar, launched in 1934, was originally the only way to get to the sanctuary, and it has made daily trips there since, with occasional breaks to assist with world wars and such. I had learned when I took the boat the first time that she was soon to be retired, and one of the two nights we were in Brisbane was to be one of her final river cruises. The first night of our vacation, we sat on the back deck of the boat downing bottles of red wine and watching the sunset as old-timers reminisced about their times on the boat around us – an auspicious beginning for our trip.



We stayed at the Kookaburra Inn, a lovely hostel with lots of outdoor patio furniture where we could gather to consume more wine, play cards, etc. The next day we went to the Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary, where we learned that girls like koalas (cute) and boys like raptors (deadly). At least there was something there for everyone!





That night, I tried to find my way back to The Valley, where my colleague had taken me on my previous visit for my birthday dinner. Instead, I managed to drag us into the sex district, which was interesting but considerably less appetising. Clearly, it was time to leave Brisbane.

Easter

Easter here is a four-day weekend, which is good given that Eric and I have both been putting in 12+ hour days at work for the past several weeks. In Australia, public holidays are taken very seriously. Even the grocery stores aren't open. Even the bottle shops aren't open! Nothing to do but go surfing. While Friday was my worst surfing day EVER, to the point that I decided I should just sell the damn board and my wetuits, Easter Sunday was AMAZING. Eric has finally moved up to a shortboard, which he bought at our local auction house and repaired, so I inherited his much nicer, longer board. My board before was basically a mass-produced piece of crap from China that weighed about as much as I do. The surf was pretty small but I was catching waves and even beginning to travel down the wave a little bit instead of riding straight toward the shore. I think surfing must be one of the most frustrating sports to learn, but it really is elating when it goes well.

On Easter Monday I went to the Royal Sydney Easter Show. Don't let the word "royal" fool you; it was basically a bogan (white trash) state fair type event. I was disappointed that I couldn't get a view of the racing and diving pigs or the sheep shearing, but I did get to pet some cute animals. I love the sleeping piglets in the picture above; they were part of the "pat a pig" exhibit and were clearly left exhausted by their work.

Yesterday, I took the ferry over to Watson's Bay to meet friends for a hike to South Head (picture above) and fish and chips by the harbour. Then we went over to the Surry Hills festival. Rough day. I love the fact that public transport regularly involves ferries here. It's always beautiful on the harbour, and it's the cheapest way to spend some time on the harbour. If you look at this map, you'll see why we have so many ferries in Sydney! Eric and I live in the bottom left corner of this map, and I work in Circular Quay, which is where the Opera House is located.