Week 6 (not quite a full week,but ready to post!)

`` Hunter Valley Zoo to Blue Mountains

Thurs. Oct. 13 – singing “Pat-the-Wombat to the tune of “Rock-the-Casaba”

Finally patting the wombat.

We had breakfast, packed, and Skyped (telephoned via internet)a few people before we had to go. We couldn't leave the Hunter Valley without visiting the zoo we passed on our way to our runs, hoping it wouldn't be too grim. (after seeing a poster about the zoo where we could feed the kangas and pat wombats, I was eager to go! I was so excited I kept singing the above song (which wasn't more than “we're gonna pat-the-wombat” in the car until Owen threatened to cancel the zoo trip unless I stopped, ed.) An auspicious sign that this would be a good visit was the peacock proudly strutting its' stuff and flaring its' tail in the parking lot. We went in and Meg bought 4 ice cream cones full of kangaroo and bird food for the animals. We had a quick look around, were whistled at and told “hello, darling” by some cheeky cockatoos very interested in our food, and then headed over for scheduled wombat-petting. These are large burrowing animals which were given a nice plate of vegetables to eat, whole cobs of corn and heads of cauliflower. The male was shy but the female came out and ate and let the keeper pick her up and carry her around so that everyone could stroke her back. They have heavy bone-plates on their backside, apparently strong enough to crush a dingo's head against the top of a burrow hole.(The crowd around the wombats were us, some parents with their children, and some adults from a community living centre with their caregivers, we all waited our turn for what proved to be a rather anti-climactic experience, for me at least).

Meg, re-enacting her favourite scene from 'The Birds".

Next we went to Meg's favourite, the cage where you lock yourselves in with the birds and fed them. They soon were swarming over her and she spent a long time trying to train them how to eat properly. They were more interested in the ice cream-cones than the seed, and enjoyed crunching the bits up. I found them a bit much and dropped the cone when their munching got a little too close to my fingers. They landed on your arms, in your hair, wherever they could perch close to the beloved cone.

Getting close to an Australian icon, Russel Crowe!

We then got to pet a koala, (but only on the back and only while its mouth was full of eucalyptus leaves). Meg said its' fur felt curly and was surprised. We then fed some kangaroos, who again preferred the cone in spite of Meg's nutritional lectures. (We wondered whether all that sugar didn't make the animals hyperactive! ed) There were the usual suspects at the zoo as well- lizards, snakes, emus, dingos, sheep and goats (bo-o-ring). The Tasmanian Devil kept running around its small pen on the same route and seemed to be demented (or just in too small a space). Other than that they seemed pretty content and well cared for.

The wayward ways of pickpocket wallobies.

I managed to drag Meg away and we headed to Wyndham Estates for our final tasting. On our way there we passed a distressed turtle on the road. Meg ran out and picked it up to get it off the road and it promptly peed with fright. Some ladies inn a car passed and ave us advice as to what to do with it, and Meg got it to the other side. Not before a nasty driver honked at us for blocking the road, but the ladies gave him the finger. The ladies and meg congratulated themselves on having saved the turtle until we realised we didn't know which side of the road he had been heading for. No one was there but eventually a woman from the next room came and filled our glasses. She knew about the turtle situation and said they have a lot of turtle accidents in the vicinity. She was a French immigrant and her accent, mixed with Australian, was hard to decipher. She was overly generous and we really had to limit her pouring if we were going to do any driving at all. The wines that were local were excellent and it was the one place where the $60 aged Shiraz really was twice as good as the $30 one. We picked up some sparkling Shiraz and red port and then sat to have lunch and sober Meg up a bit (I can't drink wine before lunch like that). The grounds were being set up for an upcoming concert by Dame Kiri Te Kanawa and there was much busy-ness happening.

Meg saves the world, one turtle at a time.

The drive to the Blue Mountains was long and pretty but was the twistiest road we had dealt with since New Zealand. Meg was only able to drive at low speed, pulling over to let the locals pass by. At least the weather was decent, and we pulled into Katoomba well before dark. We stayed at a hostel called No. 14, which was one of the nicest (our whole trip through the antipodes). It was an old house and felt like you were visiting a friend. The common room was cosy with a fire and everyone hung out there in the small place. Our room was located on the second floor, right under the roof gables and a very interesting shape, lots of triangles and lots of space (of course it wasn't en-suite, so we had to trip downstairs in the middle of the night, but we couldn't afford that luxury on our budget). The woman who ran it (Mandy) spent lots of time going over possible hikes with us and kindly gave us our choice of the rooms that were available.

We walked into town to shop and found that being in the hills meant the place got very cold very quickly, so we kept up a brisk pace to keep warm. We made dinner in the very crowded kitchen, dodging people as they went by and trying to keep the narrow walking spaces clear. The fridge and dry food areas were all numbered so that each room had equal space, but we had so much stuff we used the numbers of rooms that we knew were empty.

We ate in the common area and had interesting discussion with Aida, a Bosnian woman who was travelling for months and Kasia, who was a doctor from Adelaide (who had interned in Alice Springs and had good stories but was a total right-winger. Both were women travelling independently and were impressive, gutsy chicks, ed). We got lots of hiking and travel advice and then went to bed and slept well.

Fri. – Mastering the Mysterious, Misty Mountains...

Intrepid hiker in the misty canyon.

We got up and had breakfast with a friendly group of Germans. The weather was all fog and mist so we followed Mandy's advice and went to the Grand Canyon (as it would still be a good hike in mist). This one was slightly different from the Arizona one, but much more accessible from Katoomba (ha ha). The mist kept getting thicker as we drove to the trail-head and we were one of only a few cars in a lot meant to hold dozens. There was drizzle all around us, making the footing quite slippery. The steps were huge slabs of stone, occasionally carved out of rock-face but more often brought from elsewhere and set down. There was also a doorway which apparently was shut when they worked on the trail. We benefited greatly from their work (improving the trail) and soon descended to the bottom of the canyon. A stream met us there and would follow us for most of the trail. The hike was at the bottom of a gorge carved by this stream and had high sides and a very narrow hiking area. The trail took us along carved rock (with guard rails!) through a cave, under a waterfall but mainly through widened cave areas with a rock wall on one side and a crack in the ground with a stream at the bottom of it on the other. The rain came and went but never got too bad and the plant life was lush, amazing considering how many plants were just clinging precariously to wet rock. Towards the end of the hike we crossed the stream several times and had trouble finding the trail again. We only met one other hiker until our final ascent, so really felt on our own down there.

On our way up we met another couple wearing Tilley hats so we bonded and took each others' photos (yes, it may be lame but that's who we are). We then went by one of the crews working on the trail having their lunch. We talked to them about how they did it and found out that the huge bags of construction materials were dropped by helicopter for them. We finally came back to the starting point and took a side trail to check out a scenic lookout, which was like staring into a glass of milk due to the fog.

We rewarded ourselves by going to a pizza place that had a chef in the window but found that they weren't open for lunch. While walking back we bumped into three of the British guys with whom we had shared our Whitsunday Yacht trip. They were on a Blue Mountain tour bus waiting for pickup, quite a coincidence to bump into them again, what fun!(When you are on the road, people you spent two days with are like old friends if you meet them again).

Meg got a fantasy novel (Part 2 of a book that I read but didn't know had a sequel,yay!) from a used book store and we headed back for lunch at our hostel. Aida was sick and other people weren't feeling well, luckily we didn't pick anything up. She complained that she was going to Cairns, which is usually pretty sunny but had rain forecast for her trip there. She said bad weather had followed her throughout the country. It was true that the day after we met her was the first day on our Australia trip that we needed raincoats. Coincidence?

We also spoke to a Welsh guy (Brian)who had been travelling for a long time and had spent time in Cambodia helping to build a school. He was very laid back and seasoned and had spent most of his time in Australia tenting for free on public land. Some German hikers reported that you couldn't see anything on the trails in the town, so we hunkered down for an indoor afternoon of typing and napping (guess who did what).

Could we be deported for breaking this law? Please don't turn us in..

For dinner we went to the pizza place which was inexpensive and very generous with their toppings(anchovies and shrimp-yum). The crust was pretty average but overall the best pizza we'd had in Australia. They let us take our leftover pizza with us, which is against the law in Australia apparently because if people don't store the leftovers properly and contract botulism, they can sue the restaurant. We found that most places would bend the rules for us, thankfully.

We headed back and had a laid back evening comparing notes with the other people there and hanging out in the cosy common area. Hostels close to natural areas seemed to attract people of a different ilk than the cities, where many backpackers are of the “drink yourself blind and howl” type. Tea was had, work was done on the internet and we slept to the sound of pouring rain on the roof .    

Slippery stone steps stifle celebratory salute.

Australia - Week 5 Coff's Harbour down to Wine Country

 March 14 - We'll get this thing finished, we've just been so busy...
We've just entered Thailand and are hunkered down in a heavy storm in Chaing Rai.  Laos was wonderfully mellow, Vietnam was exhausting and so far Thailand is wonderful.  We've had to completely change our Africa trip plans as our passports are getting dangerously full and it's very difficult to renew them overseas.  All is well and look for more posts soon!

Coff's Harbour South...

Thursday Oct. 6 continued...

Dull Dinner, Delicious Dessert, and Abundant Australian Alcohol

The drive to Coff's Harbour was uneventful and we successfully arrived in the mid-sized town at a posh, modern hostel. Everything was new and it was the first time we had a plastic passkey to our room. Only once we got there did we realize that oops- we left our cooler bag at Mike and Megan's, leaving us with few food options for dinner (this was not the first and won't be the last time we leave our chilli bin behind). We chilled out in our room and Meg took a swim in the cold, small pool before dinner time. With no chilly bin, we decided to dine on the town.

The main street was a short walk from the hostel and Meg became fixated on me choosing our eating place (because I usually end up being the chooser,ed.) . I went for a place that had a varied menu and a good deal on wine for people eating early, (and being on a tight budget) like us. The wine was tasty and we split a yummy seafood chowder before the mains eventually came with agonizingly slow and completely unmotivated service. My steak was near tasteless and Meg's salmon tortellini pasta was good, but small (it turned out I had ordered an appetizer from the “specials”). Meg decided that the place sucked and tried to warn people off through the window (with appropriate chocking motions) as they were standing on the street looking at the menu, but they unwisely ignored her and came in anyway.

We decided that this obviously wasn't the place for dessert and wandered down the street to a place that offered coffee and cake for $5(cheap,cheap,cheap). The main attraction at this place was they would take your choice of about 20 different candies/chocolate bars and mash them into your ice cream in front of you on their frozen stone. We watched half a dozen kids excitedly go through this process before we got to order and were pleasantly surprised that we also got ice cream with our cake (cheap,cheap,bonus!). It was surprising good and unsurprisingly filling and Meg gave them a tip in their jar as with the smashing and everything they were the hardest working servers we'd seen in Australia.

On the way back we picked up some wine (which was actually a drive through place- in Australia you don't have to get out of your car to get booze) as a gift for Meg's next cousins and were treated to an impromptu lecture on price and wineries by the staff, along with an invitation to tomorrow's tasting. (It just goes to show, appearances at a drive-through win shop can be deceptive). We declined as we had to take off early and breakfast wine was not our thing. Back at the hostel the kids were noisy outside our window in their beer-induced haze but they weren't doing anything we couldn't sleep through.

Friday – No Worries at Port Macquarrie...

Meg needed extra sleep this morning but I went for a run along the Coff's Harbour beach. There were several coves to run along as well as a spit that provided a nice view of the area. A few other people were out jogging or strolling but again the water was considered too cold for swimming. After that we had breakfast, packed and wondered about how the Ontario election turned out, as polls had not closed when we checked out of the hotel.

We made the short drive to Port Macquarrie and after some GPS confusion arrived at the home of Meg's other cousin John Scullin, brother of Megan. He gave us a hearty welcome and we headed out to lunch at a little spot with an ocean view. The service was slow but the view was splendid. We then headed to the nearby lighthouse which looked exactly like a little Greek church but afforded views of the long beach and some offshore rock formations.

John then took us on a tour of the town which had an abundance of beaches, some for surfing, swimming, or even weddings. We also took a look at the river that emptied into the port and some of the downtown areas. We headed over to the Koala Hospital to get an afternoon tour of the place. The tour host was very animated and was able to convey the personalities of the animals through her stories and analogies. The talk was planned around the feeding times for the marsupials so they were actually moving. Normally they sleep most of the day and all you can see are grey tufts of fur up in trees. The ones in hospital had been injured by cars or dogs mostly, plus a few young ones orphaned through similar reasons. We got some cute pictures and Meg wanted to adopt one (more like sponsoring, sadly you don't get to take your adopted one home). One young koala, Ely,went on a hunger strike rather than eat eucalyptus leaves , it was milk or nothing, even though she was much too old to be bottle fed. The koalas had a choice of over 60 different varieties of leaves but they each have their favourite. The staff have to get up at “sparrow fart” every day to pick enough fresh ones for them all. One little guy was burned so badly he couldn’t open his eyes. They nursed him back to health but he died of heart attack a few years later. Many of the koalas suffered from “wet bottom”, horrible disease that means they drip all the time, rust coloured bum and very uncomfortable.

Back at the house we had drinks and met Jan, who volunteers at the koala hospital. We were able to get online and learn Tim Hudak had lost the provincial election, which was heartening news. Meg got a look through John's notes and pictures of the family. We drank some wine, John made a fine Thai curry, and after our late dinner we all sleepily retired.

Meg consoles a wounded giant koala.

Saturday – Spotting Wild turkey and cooking curried chicken 

We woke up and had breakfast then John took us to a to return some useless electronics we had bought in Brisbane, and do some basic shopping. We were cooking dinner that night so we had to buy some food to get that together. John showed us a few other parts of town, including some nice areas by the river that almost felt like mangroves.

We returned to the house, got dinner marinading and Meg napped while everyone else relaxed. Once she got up we went for a hike along the shore line which took us along the breakwater where people have been encouraged to decorate the rocks, some artistically and some just scrawling their names across them. We hiked across several beaches which mainly had strong currents and were full of surfers sitting in the water waiting for their moment. Several of them were quite good and could ride a wave back and forth right into shore. We bypassed a wedding in a park and hiked around a few rocky points. Eventually we ended up at the dogs off- leash beach closest to John and Jan's place and spotted a colourful wild turkey which Meg had trouble identifying.

Back at the house we cooked a fine dinner (curried chicken with avocado sauce and brown rice), had some more wine and Meg learned more about the Scullin side of her family.

With cousin John.

Sunday – Newcastle Dune-Driving Counter-Culture

We got up, had breakfast and packed. Meg tried to go to church but found that the website had the wrong time listed. One lady told her she was “off the hook” but she had looked forward to attending the service... We took advantage of the extra time by watching some movies made by John and Jan about their old family house in Melbourne and some of the places they've traveled to in Australia.

We said goodbye to them and made plans to try coinciding with their upcoming trip to Melbourne (plans which were later thwarted). We drove towards Newcastle and turned off to take a look at Stockton Bight, famous for having the longest moving sand dunes in the southern hemisphere. We followed a pitted dirt road to a parking lot compulsory for all non 4-wheel-drive vehicles. We then had to walk down a dirt road for about 15 minutes where vehicles were pulled over to let air out of their tires (better traction for driving on sand). There were a large number of drivers there and it felt like we were witnessing a Newcastle counterculture devoted to dune driving.

The road ended as the dunes started; the ones close to the road covered with plastic fences, to lessen erosion. We walked up the nearest dune and saw a trailer covered with 4 wheeled utility vehicles and a tent where a family was hanging out. The guy with the trailer was driving golf balls off the top of the dune and waiting for customers. We walked across them and saw some steep far off areas that had tire tracks on them and wondered if the vehicles flipped over when they tried those routes. We made it past a few muddy oases and Meg was photographed as the desperate stranded desert dweller. We avoided the trucks and made our way to the sandy beach from which we could see the city and trucks nipping in and out of the dunes. We walked back and saw a couple and their son who knew to park closer to the dunes.

We got back to the car and drove into Newcastle. The hostel was in a nice old building with huge posh common areas. The windows had been open and as our room was right above the garbage bins, we spent a fair bit of time clearing out the cloud of flies that wanted to spend the night with us. We did some basic shopping at a smaller local grocer and then walked to dinner. One sidewalk was blocked leading us a few blocks away meaning that our path went up over one of the largest hills in the city. The views were pretty but Meg was pretty much out of energy by the time we got to our Indian restaurant. They had a pick and choose special and I had the huge small plate and Meg had the enormous large plate and everything was tasty.

Refueled, we headed back to take advantage of the DVD player in our room. The selection was kind of lame and we saw I Am Legend, decent but not completely satisfying as a post-apocalyptic movie. We then tried to sleep but the door separating us from the room was paper-thin and we were subjected to hearing loud British girls read Hallmark card platitudes to each other until well after midnight.

A desperate Meg gets water after weeks of being stranded in the Sahara.

Monday – Heading to Hunter Valley, the birthplace of Australian wine...and still cranking out dome of the best in the world..

We had a quick breakfast and removed ourselves from the hostel. We then went to Europcar to get a proper power pack for our GPS and did some food shopping. We had a pleasant drive to our next destination, the Hunter Valley wine region where we planned to sample the local wines, a la “Sideways”.

Our hostel was tiny compared to the Newcastle one but it was ranked 5^th out of all the YHAs in Australia. It was situated just off a sleepy road, on a grassy lawn, complete with a sauna and pool (that were sadly closed for the entire time). The room was spare, but clean and large enough to spread out (nowhere to keep our stuff except in backpacks and the trunk of the car).The common area, which included a nice wrap around porch, was comfortable and large. We settled and got some advice from the very friendly Carolyn working there. It turns out that her brother Nigel and his Ozzie wife own it and she came from England to help out. We got some advice on what to do and learned that the wine tour out of the hostel wasn't going anytime soon. We then headed to the posh Hunter Valley Information Centre where we went over our options and decided on one of the more economical tours. The Centre staff indicated it was a satisfactory tour but others warned we'd be led to the larger, less personal wineries and abandoned by our guide. The Centre had a tasting area for two wines that were projects of all the best vintners in the area. They tasted fine but not good enough to buy ...

On the way back we checked out the national park where we were thinking of going for a run. The parking spot was about a 10 minute drive down a narrow, pitted dirt road. The map at the picnic ground showed an 8 km loop, which was perfect for us. On the way back we stopped at the winery (Ernest Hill) closest to the hostel,which may have turned out to be the best wine tasting we had.. We were the only ones tasting there so the couple running the place were quite casual and relaxed. We did the tasting on their porch over a leisurely hour with him, while she sat in the next room and caught up on finances. All of their wines were available exclusively there and we learned that this was normal for Hunter Valley. The big wineries there also get grapes from huge South Australia vineyards, which apparently are the ones who gave Chardonnay a bad name by over - oaking it (naughty S.A.!). We slowly worked our way through about a dozen wines while he told us about the family history of the area. He also went through our HV brochure and made recommendations about which other wineries we should head to. We picked up two excellent bottles (one a tawny or port which was a new taste sensation for me) and tottered back to the hostel.

Sub-heading: Lost in the Outback...a scary run to nowhere...

After a bit of a rest we headed out for our run in the park. We easily parked in the picnic area and studied the map to figure out where we were going. We run at different paces but figured that since all of the other trails we'd been on were well blazed that this one would be as well. Hah!- No such luck! We followed an old dirt road into the woods, passing several areas used to dump garbage by the locals. The road went by the back of a few farms and got very wet and muddy in a few places. At one point I went straight on an intersection and noticed that Meg wasn't behind me. The intersection was a 4-way one and I couldn't see footprints, so I followed the trail back, hoping that she did the same thing if she couldn't find me. She didn't. There was no one else in the park and it was only about 30 minutes from sundown when I got back to the car. I rode it to the end of our loop just in time to see Meg emerge from the woods. Nervousness about the legitimacy of the trail she'd chosen made her make excellent time, and it turned out she had chosen correctly. (I normally have an awful sense of direction and the sun was setting- I was starting to panic, and I wasn't sure if I had just gone in a big circle, I was pretty sure they'd find my dead body in the woods...when I saw Owen coming towards me in the car- hooray-that was quite the reunion!)

Reunited we went back to the hostel to prepare an elaborate meal. Many of our hostel-mates were around by now, back from working on garlic and fruit farms. They were pretty low key, just wanting to eat and check their e-mail before going to bed early. We watched a reality show about a CEO who acts as a trainee to see how his company was doing. It was mindless but exactly what we needed and we were ready for bed.

Tues, - A day to rival any in Sideways...

We got up, had breakfast, and got ready for our wine tour. We were psyched as neither of us had to be the designated driver, yet apprehensive as a few people had suggested that it might be a b-grade tour... The pick-up was right there on time (which boded well) and we went around until everyone was picked up, 17 of us all told. Brian, our driver/guide, had loads of information about every place we passed which the older people up front listened to and the younger people at the back ignored and talked over (dare I say, natch?). We were heartened when Brian said that none of the wineries we were going to had wines in the bottle shops, all were exclusive and he said he wanted us to taste the “real” Hunter Valley (which boded better). We learned from Brian that fourteen years ago there were 82 vineyards, there are 152 now- so which ones to visit? You won't find most of these wines outside the region as they are not for export, they focus on award winning wines as they have a small, quality focused-yield. The region was known for its' dairy farming and coal (it still produces 70% of NSW's coal ).Our first stop on the tour, Kevin Sobels, gave us a taste of about 15 wines, with Brian getting behind the counter and helping with the proceedings (he used to work at an HV winery). There was a sleepy Saint Bernard behind the counter who seemed to be the manager. The wines were good but not outstanding and with the prices being between $20-35 we couldn't afford to buy anything that was simply satisfactory. It came at the end, as Meg had never been a fan of port before (until Ernest Hill Wines) but they had a white port which hit the spot, that was our first purchase of the day. They suggested we serve it over ice cubes with a squeeze of lime juice (oops forgot to do that but it tasted fine as it was..).

Brian, our guide (and bestest friend by the end of the tour),choices were smart, alternating drinking with eating...so we next visited a winery that had burned down but still maintained a gourmet olive shop, . There we sampled lots of preserves and oils and dubbah (a delicious Australian nut mixture that you dip your bread into after soaking it in olive oil). We also picked up some tasty tapenade. The next winery, Audrey Wilkinson, was one of the ones recommended to us primarily as it was on a great location at the top of a hill with 260 degree views of the valley. The story of this vineyard was that Audrey took over the vineyard at 15 after his father's death. He solemnly vowed to his father he would never touch a drop of wine, and our host says he just spat a lot. It is now owned by a rich Sydney lawyer. We had a private tasting room with an animated woman handling the tasting but sadly nothing really stood out. It often felt that the stuff that makes the connoisseurs swoon had no effect on us and the cheap stuff was what made us rave. We learned things that we'll never need to know again, such as:

Their renowned Shiraz comes from a section of the vineyard that isn't irrigated so the fruit has to work harder, the vines get a little stressed,and the grapes taste better. So in fact it wasn't that we didn't buy wine because we were cheap, but because we were protesting the treatment of the grapes..Here we also learned that Shiraz is from the Persian Syrah grape which is pronounced Shyrah (at this rate we'll be experts..)

After this we were dropped off for lunch at the “Hunter Valley Gardens Village” -yes, it's as bad as it sounds- a Disney-style tourist centre which consisted of generic “quaint” houses full of overpriced shops selling fudge and ceramic fairies, bordering onto elaborate botanical gardens We had simple pies and sandwiches and I had an overpriced cookie. Meg was full of wine and so disenchanted with the place that she ignored the fudge and chocolate shop (blech).

Our next winery was another recommended one, Ivanhoe, (which had the best name- of any winery ever conceived- so noble and chivalrous, it almost makes one want to joust or something) and we had our tasting on the back porch with an enthusiastic young man. We also chatted with some of our tour mates who had just taken the African tour by Gap (that we were considering) and had decided to stay together as a group and see Australia. The wines were again nice but not amazing but we decided to get a bottle of their Shiraz anyway. Meg will tell about the tragedy at the winery. (My notes indicate that the family was stricken with bad luck. Steve Dreyton's parents were killed in a plane crash, and his brother Trevor was drowned in a vat of wine- I think).

At Ivanhoe all the reds are hand picked. We learned that 70% of all grapes are machine picked which “shakes the hell out of the vines”. (Grape cruelty abounds in Hunter Valley).After the last tragedy they let the vineyard go..but man who is running Ivanhoe now only started in 1999 and by 2000 he won an award, not bad for a thirty-year old. They say their Shiraz goes well with chocolate or mud cake (yum!).

For a break from sipping wine, we visited the Smelly Cheese Store, which had a decent selection and we couldn't resist a blue and a triple cream brie. Meg also got some sweets from the shop next door that reminded her of her childhood (chocolate lady fingers). Our last winery was Mistletoe, whose large yard was covered with whimsical sculptures from a competition they had each year, including a group of tall, coloured poles that were called “Talking Heads” that won the prize in 2010. Other huge structures included giant stiletto heels and gargantuan insects. The wines here were superior, with the best white and an excellent cab sauv and Brian heartily agreed that our choices were fine ones. (Unfortunately at this point I was no longer sober enough to take notes and forgot to write what we bought, but I'm sure it was good. The only thing I noted was that Nick Patterson was considered the best young winemaker in Australia, ed.)

After four wineries we were dropped off at a place that had some more wine, a beer tasting area and a cheese shop, Binori, across the road. We crossed the road and turned to see almost the entirety of our group following us (as we had all reached or excelled our alcoholic intake for the year). This place had the best cheese, with an aged cheddar and some labna (yoghurt balls marinaded in oil and spice), which we ended up buying. (Truly, if you've never tasted labna on a cracker you haven't lived, it is rich and creamy, tart and unforgettable. Or at least Binori Labna was..) The place did very well by our group, as they were generous with their tasting and their Labna was exquisite (and no, we know what you are thinking, but our lack of sobriety did not impair our judgment here).

We crossed the road and some of our group grabbed a beer on the outdoor patio, and the rest of us settled down soaking in the afternoon sun until it was time to go. We spoke to some of the older guests who spoke well of Tasmania and some other places we were going. Back on the bus, we were dropping most people off where they came from except for two young Irish women from our hostel, who were dropped off at Hannigan's Pub. Four wineries and a beer stop, and they were able to saunter in for another round! The rest of the bus was open-mouthed in admiration (those of us who weren't unconscious). We said a fond goodbye to our tour-mates and bestest friend Brian and were dropped back “home”as the sun was setting. Unable to eat much, we made a simple dinner with leftovers, and I did some typing and went to sleep while Meg stayed up late for some reason.

Be glad we weren't driving!

Weds. The Hangover...

A Meg-demanded downtime day (actually by some miracle, WE weren't hung over, but the Irish girls were...). Meg slept in after her late night and then proceeded to watch the two Matrix sequels on the DVD player. I did some shopping, organizing, researching, laundry, typing and hanging out. We spoke to the cleaners, one of which was the owner's wife who taught part time and helped out at the hostel for the other part. Her mom was also there (it's a family business) helping to clean, and babysitting the kids. Meg ratted out some guys who had neglected to clean their breakfast dishes and the owner knew exactly who they were, two British boys. They sheepishly came in to clean them, neither of them calling Meg a rat (I was in witness protection by that point). Later, when their room was cleaned out it was found to be filthy, with thawed frozen pizzas in the room, neglected after they found out that the hostel didn't have a proper oven. The biggest excitement of the day was when we got locked out of our room due to our extending our stay after our key card was programmed. We went for a second run in the same place but this one was much more successful as no one got lost (not that we're naming names here). Since our first run, some construction machines had been busy putting piles of dirt across the road to keep the locals from filling their trucks up with garbage and dumping it in the woods. Also, they had smoothed the dirt road out, which we appreciated.

We made another elaborate dinner with our gourmet acquisitions and finished off the 3^rd and final Matrix movie. Meg had to keep adjusting the volume as the dialogue was very quiet and the chase scenes were super loud but this being a laid-back hostel, no one complained. We went to bed with dreams of Keanu (aka Neo).

Erotic kangaroo statues make more sense after  large amounts of wine.

Australia - Week 4 Brisbane and beyond

Jan. 16 - The blog is way behind, quelle surprise.  In real time, we are in Cambodia right now after having spent a full month in China and 5 days in Hong Kong.  We are about to rent an apartment for a month and help out at a local school for street kids.  By about mid-February we'll explore SE Asia and then head back to China for the month of April.  Back inAustralia, however...

Sunday Oct. 2– Spirituality, Street Markets, and the best Ginger Beer ...

It was Meg’s B-Day, so we were greeted by a chorus of kookaburras serenading her on the verandah and an entourage of dancing wombats were tumbling about for her pleasure (huh?ed.). After that performance, she could only top it by attending service at the Uniting Church, which she went to after we packed up. I headed up to a farmers’ market which ended up being a nice walk to a park only to be advised by a park attendant that the market had moved to a location far across town. There was nothing to do but sit on the hostel patio and read my book, which I avidly did.

Upon Meg’s return from her spiritual enlightenment we headed downtown along the main commercial street, which was closed for a Sunday street market. There were the usual accessory stalls and food places but a lot more alternative healing kiosks than we’d see in Canada, where you could watch a client having her aura caressed by an earnest-looking expert. We waded through fairly thick crowds and passed a man who droned into a didgeridoo, simultaneously playing blues guitar. At the end of the market was a well stocked used-book store where we had a good browse and Meg found a Gerald Durell book (My family and other Animals) that she had started in Vancouver and desperately wanted to finish...

Back through the market, we hunted down lunch which consisted of a mediocre burrito and an excellent bottle of homemade ginger beer, a product they produce with gusto in Australia (in contrast to their alcoholic beer, which has rarely turned out to be anything interesting). Full of food, we headed off to Brisbane on an uneventful drive (I can't remember a single thing as I am writing this a solid two weeks later). We found our Bed and Breakfast (B & B), Annie's Inn, and were given a large room in a charming old house close to downtown.

Brisbane Birthday Dinner Delights Dynamic Duo

We strolled downtown, which was less than ten minutes away and all downhill. The centre of Brisbane is a busy pedestrian street with mall and shops as well as music and big screen television for people who just want to hang out. We had a mission to see a movie at the city cheapie theatre, so we blazed through the commercial area, across a brown river on a pedestrian bridge and down the main arts street. Brisbane is very well set up for tourists, with the major museums and art centres all connected together along the river beside a green park with floral gardens and multiple swimming areas. At the theatre we discovered the reason they can charge such good prices is that it has a solid 15 minutes of obnoxious commercials mixed with 2 or 3 movie trailers before the actual movie starts. This made us nervous that we’d be late for our dinner reservation, fortunately the website’s running times for the films took the commercials into account. We checked out Crazy, Stupid Love which we had zero expectations for but turned out to have a few laughs. The reason seemed to be that it was written by the same fellow as Thank You for Smoking, a really funny movie. We popped up out of our seats as soon as the credits started and speed-walked to our restaurant in the nick of time.

We were the last seating of the night at Tukka, which specializes in taking bush cuisine and tarting it up for the gourmand scene. The service was very attentive, with the Scottish maître d' /co-owner being very helpful. We wanted to try as many different things as possible, but the tasting platter was for two people and Meg worried that it was mostly red meat and therefore left little for her. Our Scottish friend overheard this and said that he'd ask if the chef could alter the platter to be for one, allowing Meg to order a plate of “bugs”. These were not insects but a charming name for a creature in the scampi/shrimp/crayfish family. They arrived cooked with lemon myrtle, a fragrant local tree.

My platter (which we shared) included bread based upon Australia bannock served with dukka, a nut mixture that you dip your oil-soaked bread into. There were also homemade preserved meats, with smoked and dried kangaroo, sliced emu and marinated alligator. There were also vegetable chutneys and sauces and a selection of berry-sized apples to eat. Everything was excellent and Meg still waxes poetic about her beloved bugs (have since had none to match them). To go with this we had a local wine with an irreverent label paying homage to skate-punks. The mains were barramundi for Meg and grilled emu for me. Emu is a very strange bird, as you would swear that the meat was a grilled beefsteak in smell, taste and texture. For dessert we had a beautifully presented tasting plate with tiny servings half a dozen desserts which were all wonderful.

Fine dining, Brisbane style.

At the end of meal there were just two tables occupied and the chef came out of the kitchen to chat with them, then us. When we started asking questions about the ingredients he invited us to the garden behind the kitchen where he grew many of the plants he used in the dishes. There was the lemon myrtle bush as well as an anise and cinnamon one, several other trees and bushy herbs. Tukka was one of the best restaurants we have ever been to;a great place to visit if you are a “foodie”.

Monday – Street Art, Serious Art,and Trashy Television...

An example of the common museum ibis.

We got up and had a simple but fine breakfast talking with the very chatty caretaker,Wayne. Several other guests were eating as well but kept to themselves, which we weren't used to in a B&B setting. We walked through town to the Europcar rental office to do some paperwork. Along the way we walked along nice streets with some quirky public art, dalek-like copper structures (think Dr. Who) and a leopard dressed as a human, with a hole in his stomach,hailing a bus. Meg went to the post office and while I waited outside some people were handing out free samples of fruit juice, so I picked some up. It was mango nectar and tasted pretty good, but when I read the bottle I saw that one serving of the stuff contained 2/3 of my daily sugar intake. Nasty. After being so diligent with getting our chores done, we headed over to the arts area to check out a gallery. The Museum of Modern Art was supposed to be the best but it had started to pour rain so we went in to the Queensland Art Gallery to hold us over. It turned out to be the superior gallery, with a huge collection of Aboriginal Art, a nice space with lots of water pools, an artist -curated area, some excellent 1930s photos of Indian fakirs sitting on beds of nails,etc. The big draw was a retrospective of the photography of Henri Cartier- Bresson. We didn’t actually see the show, but we saw documentary films about his work and looked through some large books of his prints, nice. We lingered at the Museum café and had coffees; but all of the inside seats were taken so we huddled outside under an umbrella in the rain watching ibises and lizards scour the area for morsels.

We headed back to our room in the drizzle and wondered how we would cook pasta for dinner without a proper kitchen. The internet provided the answer and the managers (Wayne and Trudy) had a microwave steamer. It was an experiment that worked and we had our beloved pasta puttanesca with wine. After that we watched some trashy television, called people overseas using Skype and then headed off to bed.

Tuesday – The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly: Buddha Trees, Hollywood Trash, and Barbie-Meets-Edward Scissor-hands Decor...

Brisbane's riverside gardens.

Meg needed some downtime so after breakfast I headed off downtown on my own. I wandered into music stores and checked out the riverside walk. Rivers in cities are nice, but brown ones aren’t inspiring so I headed over to the artsy side. There they had impressive gardens with bougainvillea growing on frames which curved over the walking trail. These trails led through gardens and by several swimming lagoons that were well laid out and well used..

I arrived at the Museum of Modern Art an hour early for meeting Meg so decided to case the joint. They had just finished a huge surrealist show and were still taking it down so there was only one floor and a few rooms open. I went to the media room as I figured I could watch some movies to pass the time. Their media room had one film showing people’s reactions when they were asked in China if they knew what day it was on the anniversary of Tienanmen Square. Another film had various people addressing the camera saying, “I will die.” A third had films of sacred places, including the crucifixion table (where people press their ears to hear the hammers) and the devil’s footprint. One wall had a display of pictures of the artist’s mother with stories about their lives and relationships written on them.

Meg was also early and I caught her stalking me in the gift shop (I almost surprised him, but he's too quick for me-ed.). We had the picnic lunch she brought and then joined a museum overview tour. There was just us and a Chinese woman with the guide, so the ratio was excellent. She started by going over a tree on the grounds that was taken from a cutting from a tree cut from the original tree that Buddha sat under, which was interesting. She pointed out the unusual neon motel sign in front of the museum (people often walked in to the building looking for rooms) and had a nice explanation for the antique table with a log jammed through it that sat in the main lobby. There were some modern headpieces from the Torres Straight Islands and some new takes on textiles and she spoke engagingly about them. She covered most of the remaining galleries in the museum, so after she left us there were only a few galleries left to browse through. After about half an hour we headed back to the B & B.

We went for a late afternoon run in the nearby Botanical Gardens, which was nice enough but was in an extremely hilly area of the city (hard work!). We then headed downtown to the expensive movie theatre to see Horrible Bosses, a film we had tried to see many times but it was always on the wrong day or time. The movie was disappointing, a few laughs but too many bathroom jokes aimed at 13 year olds.

Meg battles with a local dalek-like statue.

After the movie we grabbed a couple of slices for dinner and then walked over the bridge to the Lychee Lounge for cocktails, which we were originally supposed to do for Meg’s birthday but postponed. The place had Turkish pillow niches and chandeliers decorated with light- up barbie doll heads as well as goth-style black and wire decor The drinks list was almost 30 pages long but we managed to pick some. We each had an alcoholic beverage but Meg also ordered a non-alcoholic one so she didn’t get sozzled. Everything was excellent and Meg went up to the bar to admire the bartender completing complicated rituals involved in creating our beverages. I don’t know how he felt about audiences, as he answered all of Meg’s questions but when the girls next to us asked him to burn the orange peel a second time so that they could take pictures, he refused. (Good for him!ed.)

Weds. – Rendez-Vous at Rainforest Mountain

Today we were meeting the first of Meg's cousins, (also a Megan) and her husband Michael. They lived in a fairly remote hard to get to place, near Coolangatta so we were getting escorted there by Michael this afternoon. We had lots of time after we got up, so we went through the Botanical Gardens for another run, this time looping through little labyrinths meant for strolling and heading across a large training field that was part of the park. We then packed and hung out at the B& B for awhile. As we sat there, Wayne made a good point that we were going to New South Wales which was now on Daylight Savings Time, so was our meeting time was an hour earlier than we originally thought. We decided to head out early, but not until we went downtown and tried to get Meg’s cellphone working. The people at Vodaphone verified that Meg’s Solo phone had no removable Simcard, so we quickly recycled the piece of junk. We then went to Harvey Norman and found a bin of cheap unlocked phones for $30. Back at Vodaphone we got a pay-as-you-go account that ended up serving her well.

We had a quick lunch before leaving and drove off to the gas station rendezvous, which was easy to find. The time change still had us worried, as we were about 15 minutes late for the new time but 45 minutes early for the old time time. Unable to get Michael, who was to guide us the rest of the way, on the phone, we waited in the glamorous parking lot. Of course, we didn’t even know if the new cellphone was working properly which further added to the uncertainty.

Michael then pulled up in his white truck, gave us a big hello, and all was fine (he explained that because they live on the border they use Queensland time). He led us on a half hour ride where the roads kept getting narrower and twistier until the final 10 minutes were along a pitted dirt road that we had to slow down to a crawl to navigate. We made sure to honk around tight corners to avoid potential head-on collisions. Finally we were at their house, which was a stone cottage tucked into the mountain rainforest. (There Megan, whom my mum always called the beauty of the family, waited to meet us with open arms. It was amazing to finally meet her after all these years,and she still is a great beauty with awesome Farrah Fawcett hair, the kind I always wanted to have but alas I inherited my stringy hair from my dad's side,darn-ed.). It was a lovely place, very homey with high ceilings and big rooms downstairs and cosy bedrooms upstairs. We got a tour of the grounds, with one of every kind of tree imaginable, including an avocado tree heavy with fruit. We tasted a coffee fruit from which the bean is made(surprisingly nice) and smelled many aromatic plants. We heard of plans to create a small lake on the property and build a bungalow for people to have a private retreat. Meg and Megan got caught up with family talk and were disappointed that a misty day meant that the usual view wasn’t there. We changed into warmer clothes, as the mountains were quite a bit cooler than Queensland. Over beer and wine we heard about how their daughter Freia was doing well studying film and Michael shared some ideas on how the Australian/International political world is structured. They seemed very happy and enthusiastic, and living in this area seemed a great choice for them. Their neighbours were an eccentric mix of people living off the land, many on state assistance, as well as some wealthy types, both from legitimate and more shady sources. Apparently the CIA decided that this area was one of the most survivable places in the world after a global military attack and then picked up some land here. If you could handle the isolation, this was an awfully nice place to spend time.

Dinner was an excellent lasagna with more wine and chatting about movies. Michael has a high belt in Kung Fu (or was it Karate? ed.) and so extolled the virtues of The Last Samurai, which we were skeptical of due to it starring Tom Cruise. We watched the movie and weren’t convinced of its greatness but still found it to be better than we expected. After that we curled up in our bed at the crook of the a-frame and slept very well.

Thursday – Bananas, Avocados, and Fond Goodbyes

We woke up to a drizzly mountain morning and went down to a hearty breakfast and more good conversation. Megan apparently always gets up early so she was ready to go and we were well fed as a result. After that I went for a ride with Micheal to meet one of the neighbours. We drove further along his local road and I definitely saw that it was far too rough for our little 2 wheel drive rental car to deal with. We headed down to a rough-looking building, propped up with a great view of the valley. We met a friendly fellow with an equally friendly pit bull. He apparently was living off disability after a bike accident and had a noticeable limp. He had wanted some help harvesting bananas, but in the end didn't really need it. He cut a large plastic bag-covered bunch off of a tree with a machete and took them down, startling a few large, black, spiders away. We did a tour of the property and it was interesting how similar his approach to land- use was to Micheal’s. He had about one of each type of tree on his property, most of them tiny and a few of them probably not going to make it. He also had a small vegetable patch that was doing quite well and a fair bit of the the weed flourishing around the house. Michael said that it was always the same thing when he went there and he probably wanted company more than help, but we all enjoyed the visit.

Before we said goodbye to Cousin Megan and her hubby, they insisted on picking a bunch of avocados for us to take. It was fun watching Michael get the picker and pluck these lovely fruit (technically they are) from the tree- talk about freshly picked! Loaded up with avocados, we said goodbye to the perfect little cottage in the mountainous rainforest and started on the road back to modern civilization. We retraced our path from dirt to paved roads with little difficulty and were soon back on the Bruce Highway.

Two Meghans at a lovely cottage.

The drive to Coff's Harbour was uneventful and we successfully arrived in the mid-sized town at a posh, modern hostel.   

Week 3 in Australia - Hervey Bay and Beyond

At Hervey Bay

Tues. Sept. 27 – Chores and Chilling Out

Today was a downtime day, for the most part. The place was awash with kids as it was school holiday week and the place’s owners were looking after all of the neighbourhood’s energetic boys. I escaped this howling circus (it testifies to Meg’s ability to lose consciousness that she was able to nap through this) and went for a walk. There were many people strolling but no one swimming along the long, sandy beach. The tide was out, so folks were walking along the sandbars. It was a nice place to stroll and watch these tiny but feisty crabs threaten me with their claws before they quickly dug themselves back into the sand.

Later, back at the hostel, we got dinner together and waited for the special movie night to start in the common room. The movie was “The Castle”, an Australian comedy about a guy who saves his house from being demolished by a planned airport expansion. It was mildly humourous and the other people in the room were oblivious to it. We had to be ready to watch whales the next day, so we gladly headed off to bed.

Weds. – Watching Whales Exhale: A Tale

We had initially requested the morning “Whale Watch” trip but it was full so we settled for the afternoon one. The bus picked us up at our hostel a little before noon and then went on to about a dozen other places. This was the school holiday, so many a family brood got on the bus, with attitudes ranging from nice to seriously bratty. We had to wade through a crowded tourist plaza to get to our boat and then it was lining up for having our ticket processed and running to grab whatever seats we could. By the time we got on, there was only bench space along one side, but it was the side that the photographer was on so we hoped that boded well. We had about an hour to get out to where the whales were so we had a lackluster safety demo soon followed by an assembly line lunch. At this point I wasn’t thinking that the tour was up to much, as we had about 70 people on the boat with us, the food was mostly tasteless and on the way out we only spotted whales from a great distance.

Slappy whale.

As we got further out, we had nice views of sandy Fraser Island, whose coast we were following and the whales swam closer. We spotted a few mom and calf pairs that would surface and spout every few minutes, but none got close to the boat. The boat actually had enough space for everyone to have a look, but we had to keep scurrying around the deck to get to where the action was. The captain sounded like the teacher in old Charlie Brown cartoons and those able to decipher announcement led the group and others followed, cameras stuck out at all angles. At one point the captain lowered a microphone into the sea and we were able to hear the famous “whale-songs” over the loudspeakers. Unfortunately it wasn't the right season, so we only heard a snippet before it faded out. We spotted a few humpbacks (all our whales were humpbacks) closer to the boat and then came the highlight of the trip...A large male swam within 60 feet of the boat and stayed alongside us for at least 10 minutes, enough for everyone to get a video (see ours attached). He repeatedly thrashed his tail back and forth on the water. People speculated he was either scaring off sharks or asserting himself for other reasons, but it was mesmerising and well worth the trip.

We saw a few other whales, closer to the boat this time, and then had to head back to shore before sundown. On the way, some dolphins joined us and swam in front of the boat for awhile. We stopped on the way back because a young calf must have been learning to breach and was jumping out of the water repeatedly, being escorted by his/her mum. This was the only time we’d seen breaching on the trip. Alas, we ran out of time and really had to motor back, so the focus shifted from the sea to the sunset. The whole process of whale watching was interesting, as many ships were out and it was a game of radioing around to find out where the the whales were and then hoping that you could get your ship to where the action was before they went away.

Everyone enjoyed the sunset and then either put on their woolies, or retired to the inside cabin as it grew quite chilly out on the water without the sun's warmth. We got back just as it was getting dark and it was fully night by the time we ended the milk-run bus drop off. After an iffy start, the whale watching was definitely worth it. And it was a huge improvement over our previous experience in Cape Breton, Canada, which involved no whales and a kidney-crushing ride in a Zodiac. Back at the hostel, dinner was mellow and we compared travel notes with a Dutch and a German woman. We encountered quite a few of these folks travelling on their own, and noticed that they were unusually strong and well –informed about places. This was probably necessary for them to survive, dorm-hopping in hostels in strange countries.

Thurs. – Ferrying to Feral Fraser Island

“Created by over 800,000 years of drifting sands, Fraser Island is an ecological wonderland- World Heritage Listed site known as K'Gari, or paradise, by the local Aboriginal people...”(Lonely Planet)

Today was our big trip day, so we got up early and again took the milk-run bus. This bus was specially designed for 8- year-olds, with 2 people barely fitting across the 3-seat clusters. We got to the ferry dock and waited to board but this turned out to be unusually tricky, as it was wavy and windy and the flat-bottomed ferry kept getting tossed around. After 4 or 5 tries, it landed at a precarious angle, long enough for the foot passengers to sprint on board. After that, it went back out into the water and took another 20 minutes to land cleanly enough for the cars to hastily dock. It was grey and cold outside so we stayed in the cabin with everyone else and occasionally caught glimpses of the marmalade, aloof ship’s cat.

After we landed, the hordes separated into their groups. We had chosen the 2 day tour, which was lucky as our group was never larger than 14 people. We met our guide and driver, Shane, who immediately cracked so many jokes that we began to wonder about his sanity. He needed his wits about him, as 4WDs are essential for driving the island ,the largest one in the world based entirely on sand. The roads would have flummoxed our car within 5 minutes, as it was, seat-belts were essential to keep us from flying around the vehicle. The right of way on the island went to airplanes first, then buses, and finally then 4 x 4s. Shane drove quite quickly, as keeping up momentum was essential to avoid getting bogged in sand. He kept up a rolling commentary while we drove and seemed put off by none of us laughing too much, the only giggles coming from the group of Taiwanese girls every time we went over a big bump.

A view from Fraser Island's only rocky hill.

Our first stop was at “Central Station”, a name given by the loggers who developed the roads there and cut down a lot of the old growth before the island was protected in 1991. We passed through a campground with dingo cages to protect food, similar to our Canadian bear boxes. Shane had to pick up the luggage of three tourists who had joined our group, and so left us in the woods examining the trees for10 minutes. After his return, he talked about the trees in the area and headed to the clear stream nearby. The water appeared to be invisible over the sand and very little lived or grew in it, except for a cluster of impressive king ferns. We walked along “The Trail of No Return” (meaning we would only be met at the other end) with Meg proudly chosen to lead the group. I filled our water bottles with what was referred to as the cleanest water in the world. It tasted like water. The walk was short and sweet, through the lush rainforest with occasional glimpses of sand. Meg liked fiddling with palm fronds that we were told were used as canteens by the Aborigines.

Shane was there to meet us at the end as promised, and we headed to the “Eurong Beach Resort” for our buffet lunch. After that stop, he drove us to “75-Mile Beach”, which was aptly named as it was perfectly sandy for hours each way. The disturbing thing was that this was the main highway of Fraser Island, with SUV s, buses and trucks whizzing up and down it at 80 km/h. I suppose that our bus was part of the problem, but it took a lot of the exoticism out of the place.

We drove for more than an hour up the beach until we got to Indian Head. This was a rocky lookout where the locals spotted the Europeans from. It’s also the only rock on the island and the stable point that all the sand built up behind the thousands of years it took to form the place. There were some short concrete piers near the edge and apparently it was a $700 fine to cross them. Most people did anyway (but not us) and I didn’t see much ticketing going on. The views were great and a whale was spotted far out to sea. After clambering down from the viewpoint, we were supposed to see the “Champagne Pools” (tide pools with foamy bubbles) but the road was blocked by half a dozen stuck vehicles, so Shane figured that the bus would end up joining them, so we started to retrace our path.

Our skeletal shipwreck.  Note tourists keeping 3 metres back.

There were several stops on the way back. The first was at a mini-canyon, “The Pinnacles”, which was supposed to have the colours of the rainbow visible. The orange, red and yellow part of the spectrum was well represented, but the place was fairly anticlimactic and most people wandered in and out of it in five minutes. The next stop was at a shipwreck, “The Maheno”, which sounds cool but it was a cruise ship headed to a scrap yard in 1935 when a cyclone knocked it onto the beach. The army had used it for target practice, so you couldn’t tell what was weather, or weapon-damage to the thing. It was a big rusty skeleton with the bottom coated in a healthy layer of barnacles. Of course, everyone ignored the posted warnings to keep 3 metres away from it and climbed into the frame. The next stop was at “Eli Creek”, a shallow cold, freshwater creek where you could take a boardwalk up and walk back down through the creek, without getting your shorts wet if you stepped around the deep bits. Meg got into her swimsuit and did the thing properly, I merely walked it as the day didn’t really hold enough heat to dry off properly after. Lots of buses and people were around and many kids were playing in the water. All along the beach there were camping areas filled with tents, mainly filled with families enjoying the school holidays. The most popular activity on Fraser Island was fishing, with poles and lines being cast along most parts of our drive along the beach. Eli Creek was one of the few places along the coast where the water was deep enough for any swimming; as the ocean surf had undertow, rogue waves, and sharks aplenty, to discourage any swimmers.

Lucky for Meg, the sun finally came out, which made the creek much more desirable. This was our last stop, so we headed back to the resort and checked into our quad. We kept hoping that our quad-mates wouldn’t arrive, and we weren't disappointed. We paid less for a huge space, complete with kitchenette, than the people who opted for doubles, score! Meg got showered and we hung out in the room until dinner, covering the extra beds with our stuff simply because we could...

Dinner was a superior buffet with tasty pasta and a good Greek salad. The wine seemed pricy until we noticed that one red was $7 a glass but $13 a bottle. This was half of what they were charging at the store and was a decent wine. We sat with different people this meal, as we left the German speakers to their own table at lunch only to find that the Taiwanese girls didn’t have enough English to converse. Now we found that two women were Danish and had better English than German and the woman with them had excellent English as well. One was doing her law practicum in Sydney and the less fluent couple were the aunt and uncle of a girl studying education and phys ed at a local university. We had a good chat, particularly with the Danish women and their friend and got to bed later than we expected. Before we went to sleep, we took our flashlight and went out onto the beach hoping to see the local wild dingoes. We were told that if we saw one we should stand tall, cross our arms, shout and slowly back away. The entrance to the resort was guarded by an electric fence including lines going over metal railings on the road precisely to keep the dingoes we wanted to see, out. At the beach, all was dark except for the stars and the approaching headlights of a few SUV s We had a romantic stroll, no dingoes though, and then headed back to our room to snooze.

Friday- Luscious Lakes and Dynamic Dunes

We woke up early enough to go for a run on the beach before breakfast. It was amazing: we were barefoot running on sand which stretched on as far as the eye could see. We met a few people out for an early stroll/run but we all kept close to the water so that the 4 by 4 traffic couldn't mow us down. The sun was up and the waves were crashing next to us all the way down and back.

We returned to the resort for a quick breakfast, sitting by ourselves so as not to subject others to our smelly outfits. We then packed up and got on the bus for our first destination, Lake McKenzie. This “lake” was actually a giant rainwater puddle. It was breathtakingly blue (see photos), with a low pH that made skin and hair feel super soft, which it really did! Thankfully our guide showed us how to get to a less crowded part of the beach, as this was a stop for every single tour group on the island! We had a good long time because we were on the two-day trip, so Meg and I swam across it. It took about half an hour each way and took us far from the maddening crowds. The water was too cold for locals, but all the tourists swam in it. It was a little cool getting in but you got used to it almost immediately and then it felt really refreshing. The weather was also very hot and sunny so the swim was very welcome. The water was super clear, and one could see the bottom, which meant it was deceptively deep and you had to be cautious when diving. After resting a few minutes on the other side of the lake, we swam back and dried off on our beach.

Lake McKenzie, with wannabe mermaid.

The sandy march to Lake Wabby.

On the way back to the bus there was a picnic area where Shane had set up tea with muffins, cookies, and fruit, for us. We drove back to “75-Mile Beach” but stopped at the entry path for Lake Wabby. It is surrounded on 3 sides by a gum tree forest and the “fourth is a massive sand-blow which encroaches on the lake at the rate of 3 metres per year” (Lonely Planet). We were provided with 2 sandwiches and a juice box for lunch and then had a 2 km walk to the lake. This was well blazed and we were able to do it in our sandals.

It was a pleasant enough walk through the woods but was uneventful and we just chatted amongst ourselves. Just before the lake the path opened out onto an area of sand dunes that appeared to have come from the Sahara. The dunes were strange, as there was no middle vegetation. The trees just stopped at the edge of the sand. We had a short hike across the dunes, then they sloped down steeply to green Lake Wabby. The lake was stunning, with schools of catfish swimming close to shore. It was quite small but the heat from the sand made a swim delicious. We watched ducks and fish and sat at the edge of the lake enjoying the day. Some people had brought skim-boards and were tobogganing down the dunes into the water, which looked like a blast. Just before we left Meg and Shane started talking politics and kept it up without either taking a breath for the next hour.

We packed up and headed back to the bus, with everyone staying well back of Meg and Shane other than a German boy who seemed fascinated by hearing so much uninterrupted English. We saw a large lizard on the way back and someone spotted a snake up a tree, but we were safe. We headed back to the resort and said goodbye to our three tour mates that were taking a different bus home. We had a beer, relaxed, and got changed out of our swimming clothes. On the drive back we went over an overrated stretch of road called “the roller coaster” (you had to slow down so much before going over it, that it was no fun) and walked through the lobby of the only other resort on the Island, the luxurious “Kingfisher Bay Eco-lodge", before boarding the ferry. I stayed inside for most of the trip as we had spent so much of the day outdoors. Meg walked around the ferry but I didn’t sense that I missed much.

It was getting dark when we landed and we were concerned that the office of our hostel would be closed by the time we got back. No worries though, and they even switched us into a premium room at no extra cost, lucky us, again!

Sat – Cliquey Clients at Caloundra: Why the French Seem so Snobby

Travel day! We got up, organized and packed our stuff and got ready to leave. We had a good chat with the owner of the Woolshed Backpackers, Brent, who seemed to be a fine fellow. Along the way we stopped for lunch and were targetted by a couple of black and white birds (apparently as ubiquitous in Australia as seagulls, and equally attracted to people with food). Meg fed them some of her Rye-vita bread and they fought furiously over it. The rest of the trip was uneventful.

We arrived in Caloundra at a hostel that had been converted from a motel. The owner was of French background and the backpackers seemed to know this as it was the only place we stayed with a real presence of French people. We checked into our room, which was an en-suite with a TV, true luxury. I later walked the beach which had a strong current and no one swimming. The tide was out and people were walking on the sandbars and through shallow water to a sandy island that lay parallel to the town beach.

Swimming off a sand dune at Lake Wabby.

That night we went down to participate in the free BBQ that they had every Saturday. The owner remembered that Meg didn’t eat red meat and had thoughtfully picked up turkey burgers and chicken sausages. People were gathered out there and we spoke to some Germans who were working the strawberry fields and getting paid by the kilo. The French people were mostly working and staying in the hostel long- term and so weren’t super chatty with newcomers. A pair of Brits sat in lawn chairs apart from everyone else, and an elderly Australian woman who was wandering around, complaining. There was plentiful food at the BBQ, with tzatziki and grilled veggies to put on your meat. We spoke to the owner as he was grilling, and learned that he was educated in California and emigrated here with his family, alternating managing the hostel and indulging in his passion for surfing. He was giving surfing lessons to hostellers the next day and organized activities and jobs for them all week, nice guy. We asked him why the French people at the hostel seemed more reluctant to speak with us than the Germans (until I spoke French to them). Being French but bilingual, he observed that that their English is weaker as their TV is all in french or dubbed, whereas the Germans get a lot of original English programming with German subtitles. Seems reasonable, and we even noticed this disparity in language later in our travels (when I had to do a lot of translation for our French companions in Darwin). We ate, had a beer, gave up attempting to socialize with people and went back to our room. We were braced for sleeplessness as Saturday nights in hostels can be loud, but the workers worked seven days a week and started early so things quieted down nicely. We watched some Mythbusters and a fun music quiz show, RockQuiz before going to sleep.