I hate to say it, but there's very little to do in Sydney but drink.....You've seen the Opera House...Wooo...You've climbed the bridge....You've been to the Aquarium...I'm not saying Sydney is an ugly city; to be quite honest it's an extremely attractive city with its mixture of the old and new. Nothing looks too lumped together. Nothing out of place. It's just....a big city. It's not foreign enough and I realise that's why I've been feeling a little blah since arriving in Oz.
The Australian East Coast has some wonderful highlights, unfortunately it's packed and I mean packed with Brits who do their best to remind you why you left your country in the first place. This doesn't have to be because they're misbehaving; it's simply the familiarity. People don't have the same excitement in their eyes as they did in Asia. In fact we're smack bang in the limbo between Christmas and New Years. I wouldn't be surprised if people at the hostel jumped at the chance to go back to work just for something to do...Drink cycles and vomit in the hostel toilets every morning is getting a wee bit grating.
Anyway, ideas are being thrown about for what exactly to do for the illustrious event...Apparently it's even bigger this year due to some Bridge birthday. Suggestions have been made for the Botanical Gardens which overlooks the harbour and the Bridge, as well as Nelson's Point. Club nights are the other option. It's coming down to mass communication, and trying to coordinate everyone so we're in roughly the same place at the same time. Just got an e-mail from a girl I just missed before I left Bangkok for Oz. Seems she's in Bondi. Choices, choices people. Not a hell of a lot different from Reading....apart from the deep blue skies and the increasing heat....Whinge over...Wishing you all a Happy New Year!!!
I'm sorry to you guys facing work the day after Boxing Day, but Christmas isn't Christmas unless it's cold, grey and you've got a bird infront of you with its legs open.
Arrived at the Wake Up Hostel in Sydney and within moments hooked up with Sophie, Kim, Becky, Jenny and Laura from the Fraser Island trip. Spent the day taking in some of Sydney and then catching the flick, The Prestige (great film). Crashed out early that evening as the thought of spending a night out with hundreds of Brits (Wake Up seems to be populated by the exact Chavvy contents of Wokingham) did not sound tempting.
Next day I woke to the grey and cold of Sydney (is this bloody Australia or what???) and rode the mono rail with the girls (seriously Sydney, tourists like to use the mono rail for sightseeing...they cannot sightsee if you plaster huge advertisements across the windows...genius) before grabbing booze for the Christmas Eve shindig.
Alas, there is not enough booze in Christendom to stave off the sheer ear ache caused by Holiday Season cheese and by the third playing of Last Christmas I was amscraying back to the hostel. Helped finish of a goon bag with some peeps from the hostel so it wasn't all bad.
Christmas morn dawned and hallelujah it was sunny....Wait, sunshine and heat at Christmas???? That actually blows....After a full English fry up we all ventured down to the obligatory Bondi Beach fest with the entire contents of the British Isles all crowding onto a beach that could have been Bournemouth, but with bigger waves. Spent a pleasant day there having a bit of a laugh with the Christmas hat on watching people dressed in nappies and knocking back a few tinnies before jumping back on the bus to the hostel. Speaking of the hostel, this place really isn't as bad as I'd heard. Yes, it's more of a hotel, with a huge lobby and keycards preventing you from getting pretty much anywhere but your own floor, but if you make the effort people do respond. I guess the holiday season isn't the best time to raise a smile with many people looking a wee bit homesick and gloomy, beneath the plastered on smile of drunk.
Anyway, the cricket's back on today so it looks like a lazy day spent infront of the telly. Should be out tonight to meet up with a few people from The Whitsundays and Airlie Beach. God help me if it's just cheese again. What ever happened to DJs and self-respect? Looks like it's going to be a New Years Eve drinking at the Botanical Gardens and watching the stupendous (ahem) fireworks
Well everyone, can't say I've had the best Christmas ever. Don't care whether it's been peeing acid into all your eyes and a cold that could turn testicles to coal, Christmas just isn't Christmas unless it's at home. Probably first time I've felt homesick...Boo Hooo, yada yada.
Anyway, I left you as I was waiting to catch my bus to Coffs Harbour. Absolutely underwhelming little hole. The place felt like a desolate ghost town the moment I arrived and the weather did nothing to help the mood. Grey, and cold.
I'd selected for my accomodation a hotel which had hostel facilities which meant everyone had to endure pounding bass lines all through the night from the live venues downstairs. By this time I was totally burned out and needed sleep. I met up with three Danish girls, (all 19...Jesus, am I babysitting on this trip??) Charlotte, Camilla and Maria and we had a drink in the bar before hitting the hay.
My bus wasn't until 2.55am the next day so instead of checking out and having to endure a slow death walking around Coffs, I decided to move to another room (it turns out my old room was for girls only- no wonder the Danish girls looked so shocked when I materialised in the bathroom) where I bumped into a German girl who suggested we take a look around before she headed off on an earlier bus to Sydney. It seemed only fair as shortly before this I'd managed to lock her out of the room when she'd popped out to the shower thinking I was going to be busy unpacking my bag. She had to wander around the bar area half naked looking for me.
Nice enough girl. Still have her number incase we want to hook up over New Years. Shame the atmosphere wasn't better. A long walk down to the harbour ended with swirling winds and thick grey clouds. Barely anyone on the streets. And this was a Friday for Gods sake. In fact Coffs Harbour is where Friday night goes to die. I swear it slopes down the road being beaten by leproud Grannies brandishing half completed bingo cards. After saying goodbye to Vivian (another German girl called Vivian, this one a brunette) I spent my final evening (thank Jebus) grabbing some food (I say food, but I didn't see cat sick as a topping) and seeing some nth grade chavs who reminded me why I hate Reading a great deal of the time.
Took me the best part of 30mins to get my key deposit back from reception as the club downstairs seemed to be about to escalate into an all out brawl and the manager didn't seem overly concerned about my 10 bucks. Can't tell you how relieved I was when it hit 3am and the bus pulled in to take me to Sydney. Nine hours and I'll be at the Wake Up Hostel....Oh, and it had better not snow in Reading for Christmas or it'll be murders!!!
Tell me no-one was tittering like a girl at the spume comment....Anyway, woke up this morning to a big argument amongst the diving dudes who work at the Inn. Now here's me thinking Byron was supposed to be a chilled out pad. Shame I couldn't stay here longer. Couldn't even bring myself to go out as it's becoming harder to dip in and out of these places without feeling seriously gutted I can't stay longer. Nice to get some sleep though. Been feeling a little burned out.
Catching a bus to Coffs Harbour in about an hour where I'll be spending one night, checking out and spending the whole next day pottering about before catching a 2.35am bus on the 23rd down to Sydney where I can finally stretch out and get to know a place properly. May not be the best choice, but you live and learn. Plans are definitely changing though. Thinking about extending my trip to see Melbourne. If this is the nicest and friendliest place on the East Coast it would make a nice farewell to Oz.
Budget decides...It always decides...
Well well, am I in a hostel or have I crashed a house party? Headed to Noosa after a really chilled out night back at Dingos, Rainbow Beach. Some crazy Canadian called Kat took us out for a drink on the beach, but as she was clearly clinically insane I decided to head back for an early one. Fraser really took it out of all of us.
Noosa looks stunning. At least the tiny space I managed to see before the night shrouded it all. Managed to hook up with Henryk the Swede, Jimmy (Brightonian from another Fraser group), the German girls, Vivien, Sarah and Pia, the English girls, Kim, Sophie and Becky and some randoms from Jimmy's group, including Denise, Faye and Donna. Really disappointing night out- very chic place, but very quiet as it was a Monday night. Great to see the gang back together though and plans were made to meet up in Sydney some time over Christmas or New Year. Something strange about the hostel though. The consensus seemed to be that it was almost impossible to tell between the staff and the hostellers. When people have stayed somewhere for so long that a clique forms, the atmosphere changes. Hostels are supposed to be an opportunity for community, not some VIP club.
Woke up early....AGAIN....and caught a bus to Byron, heading through the built up ugliness of Surfers along with some quiet towns that I rather wished I could have stayed in for a couple of days. It wasn't till I hit Byron that that feeling really took root. Although my hostel was once again, some clique dive (this time inhabited by divers, hence the name Byron Bay Dive Centre Inn, and mostly Germans at that- real fun hearing nothing but German for an entire evening), the town has such a quaint, hippyish vibe that it reminds me of Pai. The beach presence does promote the body beautiful, but it's tempered by the hippy dippy ethnic fashions and the laid back surfer approach.
Took a walk up to the Light House, a truly special monument in Byron, seemingly on ancient Aboriginal Land, it could be seen from the hostel balcony the evening before and in its white brick splendour it reminded me of Hopper's Cape Cod paintings.
I took a walk from the lighthouse out to the most easterly point on the Australian coast. Stunning views. From the point...
I've seen dolphins leaping surfwards and sunwards, the light glinting off spume and oil.
I've seen sand flecked waves thunder into and over the black rocks of the coastal tip. Rearing up like pure white dragons, wings stretched, heads crested by swooping gulls and ravens.
I've seen places of dreamtime; from the endless silks of night and star to the translucence and fury of the sea on the earth.
Anyway, I've seen things. In fact just 30 secs ago I bumped into Jimmy looking for accomodation. With any luck I'll be out for a few drinks tonight before venturing to Coffs Harbour tomorrow. Bit of a mission to get down to Sydney. Praise the Lords I booked my bus when I did, as I ended up with a 2.35 am bus on the same day I'm supposed to arrive in Sydney. Phwew...Never again will I travel in Oz during December...
We stop outside a gas station just past Bundaberg and are confronted by a wall of hissing, rattling sound coming from the dry forest across the road. It sounds like ranks of rattlesnakes, laying plans for war. Probably just birds nestling invisible in the maze of branches, in the sparse canopy. In an hour we'll be in Hervey Bay and then it's a small gap before another bus to Rainbow Beach and prep for Fraser Island......
Fast forward.....Tired. Check. Say Exhausted maybe. Check. Dirty. Check, check. Elated?? Undoutably. Fraser has to be THE highlight of my Oz experience and quite possibly the highlight of my trip in its entirety. After spending the afternoon and night at the great Dingos hostel where I met up with six of the guys from our Whitsundays boat (connections here in Oz aren't even strange; they're inevitable) and decided to team up with them again along with a few others we'd met shortly after arriving. The core people in the group and the ones I got along with the best were the Swedes Henryk and Eric, Irish couple Tony and Maraid (totally class, the both of them), Robert the Dutch and Sophie from Portsmouth.
After a prep session from exuberant Aussie Luke and the assignation of the our A-Team title (pulling out of the drive at the head of a large convoy to the sounds of the classic tv show was pretty sweet) we headed off to the ferry and soon were chugging out to the stunning Fraser Island, the gigantic sand pit under an almost cloudless azure sky.
It's hard to describe the feeling of hitting the beach from the ferry, the landing platform descending like a troop carrier in WWII; each group trying to take the lead as they traversed the soft/wet sand divide as well as the encroaching tide (Big issue on Fraser. If you hadn't visited your favourite sight for the day, got off the beach and made camp by a certain time you were all but screwed). Apprehension at the possibility the car would flip; calm as you watched the jungle and the horizon melting away on either side; excitement as you licked splashed salt spray from your lips or grabbed on tight as the truck bucked in the sand tracks. We made Lake Mackenzie in good time, cutting through the jungle for a little bit of off road fun and after enjoying a quick lunch we settled back on the beach and then enjoyed the crystal clear waters of the lake. We may not have been able to swim in the sea (the currents, stingers and sharks put paid to that), but it was just as good splashing around and floating at Mackenzie.
The tide forced us on and so we raced off to another fresh water site, Lake Wabby, a short walk over some rolling sand dunes and housed in a scoop of rock and jungle. A steep hill gave everyone the chance to flip, roll and somersault into the water. It was there we hooked up with a mixed group of Europeans including Julia (hooked up with her), Vivi (slept in the same tent with her and Julia- cute as a button), both from Finland; Vivian (wished I'd hooked up with her), Sarah and Pia from Germany. These were our first camp buddies and after a frenzied setting up and cooking fest we headed over to them to drink and 'socialise' way into the night. I even got to use the star chart Vicky gave me in Pai. Now that was a great experience. The sky was so clear and the stars so full and bright. Constellation after constellation seen. They seemed to swirl as like a vortex; like they were kinks or wrinkles in the splayed fabric of a vast black silk bag containing the globe upon which I walked, mouth wide open, heading back to camp. Dingos possibly crunching, rustling in the jungle night surrounding.
The next day was a little more organised. Time was very tight as we had to be off the beach by 1.30pm because of the tides. After a short stop at a rather woeful creek we made our way to the spectacular Indian Head which has a perfect view of the coastland as far as the eye can see. After some serious camera snapping including a rather blurred shot of a Manta Ray we made our way back down to the trucks and headed on a straight bomb to the nearest and best campsite just past a ship wreck on the beach. Funnily enough after seeing several people getting their trucks stuck in the sand and feeling experts at avoiding this we managed to get us well and truly mired with Tony at the wheel much to the amusement of the girls. After shovelling sand from the bottom of the truck for what seemed like hours and having no luck at moving the car, not only did a couple of Aussies turn up with an extra spade, but another group from our hostel. After a bit more digging and a few extra pointers the truck was free and we had some more camp buddies for our second night.
Much banter and alcohol and even some music from our Swede Henryk on guitar followed. Some gorgeous girls in that group, but alas none of them single. Good times though, especially when the Aussies from before turned up, set up a fire and started doing some sand boarding on the beach.
I ended up back in the tent at around 3am and managed to kick and generally disturb Henryk and Erik after sinking way too many tinnies of Charlton Draught. A 7am start did nothing to help my eventual hangover especially as we awoke to a blazing morning. The consensus seemed to be a quick stop at the wreck for some photos and a cooling dip at the same creek before heading back to the ferry to beat the stampede to the hostel. Apart from having to repeatedly remind Robert our Dutch driver that they drive on the left in Oz we made it back before everyone else free to have the first showers and get our washing on.
The night was a one for renewing friendships and replaying the singalongs with Henryk on guitar. All of us guys made another effort hooking up with the English girls Donna, Denise and Faye, but nada on that front and at around 2am I was stumbling around the hostel room brimful with crap Sangria, jugs of beer, still wet from the waterfight I stumbled into and ears still ringing from this atrocious Rainbow Beach rap some Irish guy had made up.....There is one absolutely stunning Canadian/Polish girl who works here in the hostel and beyond hooking up with her it'll be a chilled night before heading to Noosa tomorrow. Thank God the Dolphin Kayaking was cancelled. No way was I in any state to do anything this morning but chill. See yas.
PS. Have you noticed that all my attempts to be amusing in the headers to these blog entries went right out the window long ways back?....I mean, did anyone actually laugh anyway?
Hooked up with the crew and peeps from the boat for some drinks at a nicely rowdy bar called Beaches to celebrate our Whitsundays trip before making the mistake of listening to some 18 year old kid from Miami who worked at the Backpackers centre Peter Pans in Airlie and heading off to a place called Reefos just outside town. After being promised a grand old time, we hit an atmosphere that a night at Bingo without tea sweetener could have beaten.
Headed straight back to catch the end of a great night with the guys and girls before hitting up an Irish bar called Shennigans. Think O'Neills or any poor chain bar and you've probably puked up on the walls in this place already. Was about to head off when a commotion on the street outside alerted everyone to a fight going on just up from the bar. It seems some bouncer had taken offence to a girl and decided to smash her through the windshield of a parked cars....Bloody rednecks I tell you. Not much different from America except they wrap a sweater round their beer.
Woke up drowsy (oh the joys of hostels and staggered wake up times) and headed off for a great breakfast with Ben (Guilfordian from the boat). Got to wait till 8.05pm for my bus to the next adventure on the beautiful sands of Fraser Island so it's going to be a day at the Lagoon.
Speak to you all when I get to Rainbow Beach.
Just finished off a fine fish and chips after a spectactular 2 days and 2 nights on the British Defender sail boat. An 83ft monster, crewed by 3 great peeps, Neil, Kez and Lozza. Full meals and interestingly tight accomodation.
I arrived in Airlie Beach after a rather pleasant night bus (I actually got an ample amount of sleep which never happened in Asia) and within 3 hours was heading on the minibus to the docks with the rest of the gang- including Samuel, Ben, Sam (girl), Amy (a Reading girl, funnily enough).
Unfortunately the weather was pretty shocking with big grey clouds hanging over the docks. We had hoped that it would pick up over the sea as it often does, but alas, it seemed to trail us as we set out to one of the islands (Hook island I believe). We made anchor and did a little snorkelling and although the visibility wasn't fantastic we had the fantastic opportunity to feed some huge fish from the ladder of the boat, including a huge and colourful Maori Wrasse that looked dangerous as hell, but didn't seem particularly interested in anything but the food.
Once the snorkelling and diving (was tempted, but the visibility looked pretty shocking and didn't fancy forking out for a poor experience; the snorkelling was easily good enough) was out of the way we bedded down for the night near the island, got some great, great food and then started drinking and getting to know one another. Lot of laughs.
The next day was an early start as the crew likes to get out before too many people arrive at the various Whitsundays sites. This meant the engines turned over at around 8am, which doesn't seem too bad, but when you consider you're on a boat and in cramped conditions it isn't really conducive to a great night's sleep. That aside everyone was looking forward to the next location which turned out to be a Black Island instead of the standard trip down to Whitehaven Beach. According to the skipper the weather was so bad that it would have been a truly extreme sailing experience and maybe a little too much for us newbies. Considering we were taking the boat up at interesting angles on the 'standard' sea conditions, everyone agreed to head with the new plan.
Black Island is a tiny, picturesque site, which is also used by sea turtles for breeding. We took some photos and a few walks around the island before heading back out in our Stinger suits for some snorkelling (Stinger suits are pretty much required around this area- one sting from a stinger the size of your thumbnail and you're pretty much kaputt). Saw a myriad fish, from the miniscule to the Wrasse sized; unfortunately no sea turtle, but after my wonderful experience in Malaysia I wasn't too disheartened.
The weather was staying relatively stable as we got back on the boat so the skipper decided to try us at a race to a shallow bay where we'd be staying the night. We were going to be taking on the Southern Cross, but after a few catcalls as we came up parallel, it became pretty clear that there was a serious mismatch. It became simply a real education into sailing. The boat was tilting up nicely and we were picking up a great speed when the skipper informed us we'd be tacking soon and picking out various people for some jobs during this manoeuvre. I got hit with the final yank on the crank (shutup) as the boat makes the turn.....Good God these people must be as strong as Hercules...What seemed a simple task of pulling in a certain length of rope using the crank became a muscle busting ordeal as the crank seemed to become as obstinate as a goat. After a huge effort the handle pumped out for the final time and I was finished.
The final stage of the trip was a gentle drift into the bay, already lit up by several boats who'd reached it before us. In every direction boats were following us in. By the time we'd dropped anchor we had a little community of boats of every description, many of the crews well acquainted which made the subsequent night a right blast as people popped on and off the boat for a drink. Very few people lasted the night as the snorkelling and sail really took it out of us, and by maybe, 3am the boat was rocking and zzz'ing it nicely.
Anyway, as usual with most trips where the weather starts out shocking we awoke to partial blue skies which spread out as the morning return sail went on till eventually everyone was slapping on the sun cream and luxuriating on the deck. I eventually came away with partially burned hands...Damn having to wash my hands after the toilet...After two final thrills as the skipper shot the boat up to an almost 180 degree angle and then eventually realised that the engine was shot and we'd have to be ferried to the dock by the small boat hitched onto the back, we reached dry land and the slow return to land legs.
Absolutely worth it. The weather wasn't even a disappointment in the end considering the experience of real sailing we got and now I have a night of drinking ahead to look forward to. Up next, Fraser Island and a chance to get over my dog phobia as 'Here Be Dingos'....
Last few hours at Tropic Days saying my goodbyes and then a taxi ride to the bus station. The long ride conjures up strange images in my head. Empty fields prickling with the odd Hopper painting in the night scene- an old wooden house, porch soaked in an eerie green yellow light; a convenience store poking out from the brick buildings, rainbow, two tone painted, seemingly tiny display windows fractured by a flaming neon advertisement. Then it's field after field again; a stuttering heartbeat on the in between trail of North Queensland. Things don't seem real here, like sets in undreamt movies. Like the nights are squabbling producers, burping up movie ideas, but forgetting to clean them away. Why do I think of America when this is clearly another continent entirely? Or does anywhere with scattered, isolated mood; rural, urban schisms make me think of Hopper?
Well I've finally pulled the eponymous digit from my hairy crevice and booked a whirlwind tour down the East Coast that actually leaves me needing to book no accommodation as my package has slipped me 4 nights free......Probably in bed bud ridden piss sheets, but hey, it's cheap and that's two thumbs up fresh to most backpackers.
Tonight I leave Cairns and grab a night bus straight to Airlie Beach, gateway to the Whitsunday Islands, then it's 4 hours of stretching and oranges before a skip and a jump onto my boat for 2 days and 2 nights sailing, snorkelling and supping of the salcohol. A quick shower...maybe...and then it's another night bus to Rainbow Beach, one of the gateways to Fraser Island, and then it's 2 nights and some days...I forget how many...self-driving (stop laughing Steve) around the largest sandpit in the world...or somewhere big and blue....Great for star watching which has been a big thrill on this trip. Apparently you can see the Milky Way. Just have to be careful of the wild dingos and make sure we clean up all our rubbish otherwise it's dingos in our camp and a big fine from the Bush Ranger....ahem....
New paragraph...From here it's a night back in Rainbow Beach before a night in Noosa, followed by 2 nights in Byron chilling on the beach. My final destination is the 'astonishing' Sydney for Christmas and New Years. Hopefully I'll be hooking up with this German girl I met on the bus back from Cape Tribulation. Also been talking to some peeps who've brought up that fact that it's the Australian Open in January in Melbourne....Perfect opportunity to enjoy that city and enjoy the one sport I love and actually know something about...Will keep you posted..
