CHAPTER 8 - AUSTRALIA PART I
Fr 1/22/99 - To Australia, personally, a new continent
Megan, John, and I were up at 430am, much too early to start a day, the penalty for cheap airfares. A hug and kiss and a card for Meagan, then we boarded a Boeing 737/300 and New Zealand Air. Nearly four hours later, Carlos Santa and "Black Magic Woman" was playing as we queued up for immigration.
We made our way to town, called Troy's brother Terry, who met as in the lobby of his work, ANZ. His first comment was, "I don't look like Troy, do I? He wouldn't be caught dead in a suit.". In a very business-like, cool manner, he passed us a city map and a spare key to his apartment, gave a brief geographical talk, and gave us the option of meeting him and a girl for Mexican dinner. We were worried and a little taken back at his coolness. John guessed that he was humoring us as a brotherly obligation to Troy. I wondered if he was in business mode and would open up later, or that he couldn't care whether two Americans crashed at his flat and he had previous obligations for the weekend and was not going to let our presence interfere. We had had a great time with Troy and Helen in Huahine, but we really didn't know Troy well, and only John had even spoken with Terry.
We jumped on the 109 Tram to Port Melbourne, a suburb that is coincidentally home of the Tanzania ferry. Fifteen minutes later we were at Terry's ten story luxury flat complex across on the ocean. He is different from Troy, black leather living room set, Klipsh stereo speakers, a picture of a red Mitsubishi 3000 and a red cafe bike on the wall. Expensive, fast lane tastes.
We dumped our packs and set out to sort our new Australian life out by sussing transport to Tanzania, buying or renting a car, getting tourist information, and finding flight prices from Sydney to Nepal. My first Australian realization, a knock upside the head, was that living costs are significantly more compared to New Zealand. Surface mail, meat pies, Magnum ice cream bars, Cadbury Fruit and Nut, lodging, transportation - my first estimate is that these cost 20-60% more! How are we to live on the same amount per day?!
We wandered between tourist information offices, outdoor supply stores, a backpackers assistance company, used car sales geared toward travelers, and other establishments to get a feel for the country. The minimum transportation cost to Tasmania’s Cradle Mt. - Lake St. Claire would be $A360 ($US240), out of range, and we dropped the idea. A beat car will cost $A2000 - $3000, and selling back would return half the cost, although private sales is a chance for better return. By five o'clock our minds were spinning uselessly from the lack of sleep the last couple of nights, the traveling, and information overload. We made our way close to Terry's work, and sat at a small alley way cafe, reading newspapers.
At five to seven we set off to meet Terry at his work, walked the wrong direction on Collins St. chasing the wrong ANZ sign on top of a building, and then retraced our steps to Elisabeth St. We were beat tired, and realized Elisabeth was wrong, and we wanted Queen St. We arrived at the correct ANZ ten minutes late, Terry must have left already. We felt awful, like fools, and walked into China Town for a good $A6.50 dinner, then trammed back to Port Melbourne.
Sa 1/23/99 - Melbourne
I awoke once again to John turning pages of a book. I looked at my watch and tapped it because it had stopped at 1:30am, and John started laughing - my sixth watch. It wasn't a good night. We crashed early and although I was asleep I recall hearing the phone ringing incessantly, and then hearing a pounding at the door. Terry and a girl stood there. The girl looked at me curiously, Terry was fuming. When John and I came in earlier I had thrown the dead bolt without thinking twice, but Terry only had the key for the lower lock in the door knob. "I don't know why you guys locked the fucking deadbolt, when it's not even used. I've been trying to get in for an hour an a half". Oh, oh. I apologized as he walked past me without reply.
Su 1/24/99 - Melbourne
Again, we rode the tram from Port Melbourne into the city to search for a car. This is frustrating. I have telephoned more than twenty people, only talked to a handful, and have only seen two cars worth considering. Most calls ring unanswered, I left a handful of messages, and calls to backpackers are the worse, sometimes I find indefinite hold, other times the person answers without a clue as to who the seller may be.
For piece of mind, we recessed at the southern edge of the city center, across the Yarra River, at the National Gallery.
Mo 1/25/99 - Melbourne
Without announcement, we set today as the 'Let's buy a car and get this over with day'. We found Robert and his red 1988 Ford Carina wagon, then met them at Joe's Garage at a side street behind McDonald's and across from the Victoria Market. Joe was an interesting character, an 73 year old Hungarian with a sweet twinkle in his blue eyes, who spent ten years in the French Foreign Legion. His small, greasy garage space adjoined a much larger work area housing a low, old race car with a single cockpit rollbar beneath a canvas cover. Joe was funny and cordial. He spoke English with a strong Germanic accent, and couldn't understand that I wanted him to access an oil leak under the engine first. Without a good diagnosis there, the rest of the roadworthy would be meaningless. He slowly plowed ahead and performed a full inspection, finally writing a slip with a short list of items that would not pass for roadworthy. The leak was a gray area.
Joe suggested changing the oil with 60 weight, adding engine additive, and washing the engine. He said some traveler will buy it. I wavered back and forth for the next couple of hours, running my hand along the lower suspension to measure the drips a few times. John didn't like the chance we would assume. If it worsened or we were stuck with repairing the leaks we be real bad news. On the other hand, I knew the car would fetch maybe $1000 more than we would pay for it. Robert parked the car on Elisabeth in front of his hostel, near the car dealership we first went to, Backpacker's 500 Auto. We sat across the street and snacked and tried to come to a conclusion. We watched a policeman put a $60 parking ticket on the car. Our meeting time with Robert came, 2pm, and suddenly the car was gone, presumably with Robert too. Well, it just didn't feel right, and we walked into Backpacker's 500 Auto to discuss a blue 1983 Ford Telestar sedan with 203,000 miles we saw on Saturday. We applied a $200 downpayment.
After checking email at the cool Bak Pak o Franklin St., we rode the tram south of the city to the bohemian neighborhood of St. Kilda. We waked along Fitzroy passing a long line of inexpensive restaurants, most of which were too expensive for us, and then along Esplanade to Acland St. Joan at the Bak Pak recommended the Falafel Express for dinner, where everything is less than $A6.50. Acland St. is lined with restaurants, sweets shops, and bars.
It is funny how fate drives a person in a seemingly irrelevant direction, for this night we stepped into a waiting ambush inside a Jewish owned pastry shop. Nicci the proprietor, chewed us and America up without remorse. She was so narrow minded and conclusive of opinion taken from such a small sampling of America, but in some fashion correct, that her whole torrent was humorous. So funny, that we met her afterward at the Reef. Okay, sure we were at first defensive, but enjoying the rantings was far more positive. She marveled at the common American who watches trash TV shows, and feels sorry for the country, full of despair, the uneducated, and ignorant. It was good fun talking at length to our first Australian, until we realized we missed the last tram to the city and had to walk along the sea to Port Melbourne. That took an hour.
Tu 1/26/99 - Melbourne, Australia Day
We had one of the slower mornings, John pouring through Wilbur Smith's the Sunbird, while I sat and read through the load of local information we have accumulated. At noon, we hopped the tram and headed for another battle of stomach stretching exercise at Pizza Hut. We have found that Pizza Hut is the only cost comparable staple. In Australia it is an all you can eat bargain at $A6.50 ($US4.30). This was our second time here on Elisabeth and Bourke, and I find that with practice you can improve. I wolfed more than eight slices, three sundaes, a handful of gorp, and a pinch of salad. Besides a half bowl of cereal and half glass of orange juice in the morning, and a large Kit Kat at a movie in the evening, this was my only consumption. Of course the healthiness isn't great, but it's cost effective for the interim, until we are off camping with the new wheels.
Requiring exercise, although the timing could have been better, we then trammed south to the Melbourne Aquatic Center for a swim. I found humor in trying to swim laps with an distended and aching stomach, and wondered if there would be pizza floaties in the pool. The unusually large shape if my stomach caused such wildly strange hydrodynamics that I had problems pitching up and down and nearly drowned. The municipal pool did have lanes, and also a series of various height diving platforms, a wave pool, water slide and for those paying more, sauna and Jacuzzi.
The evening entertainment was the movie, "Enemy of the State", which started at 10:20, playing at Crown Casino, at the tram intersection with a leg leading to Port Melbourne. .In the one hour and a half hours preceding the movie we strolled the casino, watching very unhappy people losing money at black jack tables. We also watched a piece of the Australian Tennis Open, which is in Melbourne, with Venus Williams trounced by Davenport. Since the movie lasted two and a half hours, we again missed the last tram and hoofed home.
We 1/27/98 - Melbourne
Today's errands were similar again, sorting out the car and airline tickets to Nepal, and most importantly - food. Yesterday we had eaten Pizza Hut nearly exclusively, today we had the $A8.50 buffet at the casino in our eyesight’s. Breakfast was only a partial glass of mixed milk and orange juice, so by lunchtime, the stomach was twisting for food. We left Terry's at 11:30am, jumped on the tram without paying again, and attacked the casino. The spread was pretty good, the roast beef was dried, but the deserts made up for it. Twice I piled on beef and pork and chicken and fish and mussels and pasta and beef stew and rice and bread. Then a plate of salad. Lastly, well twice, there was chocolate cake and ice cream, carrot cake and ice cream, bread pudding and ice cream. The offensive was a lot of fun, and in between courses John and I exchanged crazy, funny stories of our younger days. But afterward, the second day in a row, we wobbled around town burping and moaning about our stomachs.
We walked up Swanston St. and popped into two discount flight shops, attempting to figuring out the best plan for our itinerary and price. The shock of a $A1400 round trip between Oz to Nepal scared s enough, but here we were discussing flight prices for a couple of hops through Southeast Asia - more money that we hadn't seriously approached until today. The logistics of flying where and when are difficult, and we are also scheduling Sue in also. Best bet as of now ...
3/6/99 Sydney to Bangkok 590 tot 1800
3/7/99 1 Bangkok to Katmandu 620
4/11 35 kat to bang
5/11 30 bang to Bali 430
6/10 30 Jakarta to sing 160
6/24 14 sing->seych
After the forth or fifth day of internet email at the Bak Pak on Franklin St., John went on home due to fatigue, while I chose to walk about town. This was one of the few times John and I have separated, and I looked forward to bouncing around the city on my own, although after a late night last night, I was also tired. I did walk and walk though, first checking out the Royal Botanical Gardens. The hilly and windy paved walkways passed between great pines and birches with Latin names that look good, but only left m contemplating pronunciation. I strolled by an outdoor theatre called the Moonlight Cinema. For $A12 I could have watched Taxi Driver at 9:30p with the load of people I saw piling in with huge pillows and blankets and picnic baskets and such. Not far away was a Shakespeare takeoff called "Much Ado About Nothing".
Exiting the park before the gate closing time of 8:30p, I recon-ed Robin Hood's on Colin St., then the Hara Krishna restaurant on Swanston called Gopal's. I've had a curiosity about the place since we arrived. Up a grungy set of stairs I heard a funky drum beating and saw a long open room resembling a living room first, eating area second, not looking the least like a restaurant. An older man beat sporadically on a drum in front of a few sitting on standard living room furniture, one robed. Eating at a light colored wooden table, a girl in robe smiled and answered my queries of how dinner worked - dinner is available a few nights a week, the other nights are "workshops", best to come by for "all you can eat" at lunch, $A3.00. I doubted they had a buffet, although lunch would possibly be amusing, a witnessing of a stranger side of life. Next stop, a dark jazz club hidden away in a back alley near Russell and Little Lonsdale, then a walk to check the bulletin board at Bak Pak for a car Robert (we almost bought his car) had just described on the street, and lastly a couple of bar/nightclubs, just to see how the social people exist.
Th 1/28/99 - Melbourne
We awoke to a similar morning of hanging about Terry's apartment, reading email on John's laptop (he was able to hook it up), organizing, and reading. We moved with leopard like grace about the apartment, swaying with an air of superiority, with a menace and prowness that sends shudders along the spine of all other animals, for we were about to hunt again - the all you can eat buffet at the casino! I guess being poor and with loads of free time allows a strange and necessary creativity to surface, at least we are enjoying it.
After the slaughter, and not realizing our previous lesson of exercise after pressurizing of belly, we trammed to Bennett's Gym in Pahriam, $5. Bennett must be pretty old now, there were old pictures of him posing as Mr. Melbourne, along with articles. he gym was old, eclectic, and basic, but with weights necessary to chew up the muscle tissue.
We walked from the gym bare chested, letting the sweat dry before wearing our t-shirts again. Not far from Bennett's we passed a beauty and lingerie shop named the Devil Kitten where two female mannequins posed behind the glass front window, one naked and the other with short black satin. I suggested to John that a Blacky picture here could work, and he agreed wholeheartedly. Inside we met Aysen the owner, a very attractive brunnette wearing tight black pants and blue stretch shirt, who was willing to pose with Blacky and the grinning Lithuanian in the window. I wonder if Miss Paulson's third grade class in Santa Ana will receive this photo.
During our daily pilgrimage to the Bak Pak, we booked two tickets, Sydney to Bangkok, Thailand for $A583, and Bangkok round trip to Katmandu, Nepal for $A550. I then called Dave Ross's father, Paul, for contact number in Bangkok to purchase tickets from. Bangkok is huge in selling discount airline tickets, and I am sure I will do best there.
The evening ended early, at 8:30p, playing on the computer and reading.
Fr 1/29/99 - Melbourne
Today was the big day to collect the car and cruise away to the Great Ocean Road, southwest of Melbourne along the coast. To celebrate our last day in Melbourne, we planned on something really different - all you can eat at Pizza Hut. We then hit an ATM for a handful of cash to pay for the car, and tripped back to Bak Pak to attempt to modify dates from yesterday flights to better fit our time in selling the car and with Sue's schedule
We arrived at Backpacker’s 500 Auto at 4pm, scanning the garage and side street for our blue baby. Joe, the owner, explained the car was having front tires put on and a front end alignment, and that Shane would bring it down soon. We busied ourselves in the Victoria Market buying oranges, peaches, kiwi fruit, and bananas to snack on. I walked over to McDonald’s for a 30 cent small vanilla ice cream cone. From where we sat outside McDonald's, we could see the action outside of 500, and when the car rolled in, we jumped up and walked across Elisabeth, trying not to look too anxious and annoying to Joe and Shane. We have been hounding them through the week about buying the car and the peripherals - registration, insurance, bill of sale.
Out in St. Kilda's for the evening, ate at the Veg Out and socialized at the Esplanade Hotel where two bands, and we hung with Robert and his Kiwi friend. Tram home at 11:30, and while waiting for our second tram leg, like high school children, had to pee in bushes across street.
Sa 1/30/99 - Melbourne and Great Coastal Road
Finally, after nearly eight days in Melbourne, we pulled away from the cosmopolitan city with our new wheels and anticipated freedom. We
left auto dealer at 4:15p, drove southwest along coast on route M1,
passing through Geelong, then Australia's surf capitol in Torquay, and stopping at Anglesea Golf Course to see kangaroos across the course (as suggested by the Lonely Planet).
Hey, this was our first view of wild kangaroos! The graze on the course early morning an late evening, leaving the grass in a bad way. We were able to walk very close, checking out one female with a tail and leg exposed from her pouch. Another huge bloke laid sideways under a tree with dirt spread over him, propped on one elbow, gazing across the course. Their faces ad bodies have human qualities.
We were only able to make the very beginning of the Great Ocean Road by the days end. At the suggestion of a local grocery manager, we pulled up for the night at Cumberland Campground ($A17/2), a nice spot across the windy road from the azure ocean, and border a small river lined with high rock walls.
While reading a trail posting, we met three German's living in Galoom, a married couple who are both doctors, and Nicole, a social worker currently in between jobs and making a vacation of it. We sat and talked until retiring for the evening.
Su 1/31.99 - Great Ocean Road to Hall's Gap
We awoke amuck in the wild bird noises of Australia. Not only are the birds wonderfully colorful, their sounds are sweet and wild, an exciting initiation to the Oz bush, albeit one that may not be welcome each morning.
The previous night John suggested to Nicole she could join us for a few days, and I also asked in the morning. We figured a third person, especially a similar traveler and foreigner, would add to the adventure. Nicole had already been along the Great Ocean Road and into the Grampians, and was willing to be of guidance. Again, like New Zealand, we were three in a small blue car cruising the countryside. I think we both miss Megan. We made a plan with Nicole to meet at the carpark at 2pm.
We were itching for a hike, and were promised that there was plenty in the area. The bushwalk (Australian for hiking) on the Campbell Track was not spectacular, but it did fill the need to run the boats again. The trail followed the shallow, tannic colored, boulder strewn Cumberland River to a falls. The trail was slow and cumbersome only because it was unmarked and crossed the river many times. Without warning, and without cause, a small step caused my lower back tremendous pain, the recurring injury from pushing my truck ten years ago, hot again and asking for maintenance. The falls wasn't far, about four kilometers, but the trailhead sign estimated the time at four hours, so we were confused. After an hour, we thought we had lost the trail, but actually we were at the terminus, and had passed the falls. Not realizing this, and frustrated, we sat and ate Cadbury milk chocolate. Damn, I read the label and was reminded that the factory was in Tasmania, and we will never see it. They have free samples, you know. Retracing the river we stumbled upon a signpost we missed early, and took a long loop back over a number of different trails, landing on the ocean road after more than four hours. We were then able to scrutinize the ocean and coast more closely. This was Australia’s Great Ocean Road and I really wanted to find the reason for the title. I started to understand. The ocean color was close to Caribbean blue, and the waves crashed upon coral and beach for endless miles. Mountains of mountain birch and eucalyptus, nearly free of human structures, rolled gently to the ocean road.
We quickly drove back to Lorne for a bit of simply lunch, then met the three German's back at the campground. After a chat, John, Nicole, and I were cruising the Great Ocean Road. Nicole had driving this stretch two years earlier, and thus was a help with directions. The views are good as you drive, there are some annoying towns along the way, but the real treasure are the turn offs to lookouts over the sea.
The first and most famous, the Twelve Apostles, are high soft sandstone pinnacles standing just offshore, where the mainland gradually broke away during thousands of years of erosion. These giant yellow columns were covered by a slight mist, the beach ran along equally high and impressive walls of sandstone with nearly impossible access, the scene extending miles along the sunny coast. The sight was truly amazing, especially for two Yanks fresh out of the city, seeing a piece of wild Australia for the first time.
The next sight was Loch Ard Gorge, an inlet whose name is taken from a Glasgow cutter that run aground in 1878. Of the thirty two crew and eighteen passengers, only two survived, a young man and women. After spending the night under a broken and overturned lifeboat, exhausted and near death, the man swam ashore, only to hear the cries of a women clinging to a spar, who he then swam out to and rescued.
Being closer to the sandstone walls, the colors show well, the red from ironstone deposits, green of algae growth, and ochre and other colors from rich clay runoff. The effect created from these walls is called 'ribbon lace', the beach a perfect, clear yellow sand, and the ocean a deep blue. Together, they presented a real treat to stare and marvel at.
As we bushwalked earlier, I realized that we were at an ocean we have never experienced - the Southern Ocean, and so suggested to John that we swim. Today would be our last chance because our route turns north. I carried my shorts to the bottom of the gorge which is actually a inlet appearing narrow compared to the height of the sandstone walls, and we did it - swam in the Southern Ocean.
Lastly, we visited London Bridge which has fallen down. London Bridge was a natural bridge along a sandstone tongue into the ocean. Eight years ago, while a group of Japanese tourists visited the end, the huge sandstone bridge crashed into the ocean, and the tourists were rescued by helicopter. Imagine walking over a natural bridge fifty feet wide and a couple hundred feet above the raging ocean to the outcrops end, then hearing and seeing this huge mass of sandstone fall away into the sea. What a thrill!
Nicole told us a great travel tale. We were talking generally about travel, about places we have visited, places we would like to visit, and ones worth returning to. Eventually I asked Nicole if she had been to Africa, and she replied, "Yes, I drove across the desert". That was an interesting statement, and when queried for explanation, "Six of us drove Peugeots through Italy and then across the desert".
Nicole's English is great but not perfect, especially with the overuse of the word "super", which we teased her about. I tried to clarify, "Oh, you were in a Peugeot transport truck driving across the desert".
N - "No, six of us drove Peugeots cars"
B - "You all piled into cars and drove across?"
N - "No, six people and six cars".
Now I was further confused and deeply curious, conjuring visions of driving through endless desert.
Excitedly she explained, "Oh, that is the thing to do. Six of us bought Peugeot 504's, drove through Italy, ferried across to Tunisia, and through
Algeria, to Niger. The people there want Peugeot cars and we only bought these cheap cars, you pay about $600 and sell them for $2000, then have a good vacation. The money pays for the vacation and your flight back home."
Now I was totally thrilled by the idea, voiced my excitement, and rattled off a slew of questions to complete the story. The French cars were nine to seventeen years old, and hard to find in Germany because they are no longer manufactured. Of the six, only four made the journey that included one and a half months of desert. The roadside provided a graveyard for failed vehicles. They all carried two twenty liter containers of water and the same in extra petrol. A map would indicate a town, and sometimes only one shack sat there, hanging a sign written "food". When the road turned soft, they were often stuck, and then a group effort was made with ropes and a metal grate under the wheels to free the vehicle. Sand storms were also common, and these simply required stopping and waiting. I really think the story has a dangerous but romantic appeal, and couldn't help but repeat, "that is really cool!". There was a bad side story though. Two inexperienced Germans attempted the trek with too little water. There bodies were found a week before Nicole set off.
We were tooling along with John behind the wheel. The topic of cars slamming kangaroos cropped up often this past week. When searching for our dream junk, I repeatedly and kiddingly said we should have "roo" bars, metal bars protecting the front of the vehicles, often found on large transport trucks, vans, and some cars. Around Alice Springs and other outback areas people avoid driving at night because of the kangaroos. Australia also has wallabies, a smaller, darker version of kangaroo, and another driver's hazard. Besides these car bashers, drivers have to contend with smaller animals such as possum and birds. The biggest mistake made is too swerve to avoid an animal, often resulting in smashing something much harder, like a tree.
We had left the coast later than originally planned, we had wanted to find a tent sight before dark. We watched the sun set as a large orange ball over long flat farmland as a full moon rose. The moon caught our attention, the bottom half was behind clouds tinted purple from the sunset, creating an unusual effect. Darkness came about 9:15pm and we were soon within woods with still another 65km to go. On the my side of the road we zoomed within feet of a very large kangaroo. I mentioned this to John and suggested he slow, which he did. Nicole tried to impress upon us the danger of these creatures at night, that they may appear happy loitering on the roadside, but may suddenly jump in front of the car. Suddenly, and I was not watching the road, John swerved to avoid a bird, momentarily sending the car at an angle and screeching the tires. My heart sank and jump and nearly stopped, a feeling of anxiety filled my body. Again John had to listen to Nicole's talk on the proper way to confront animals on the road. Slowly, we eventually all came back to earth. John slowed more, maybe to 80 km/h. Less than ten minutes later, as I was checking for temperature information on Alice Springs in the Lonely Planet, John again twisted the wheel left, although not as hard, at the same time a large thud slammed John's door. "What the hell was that?!", I yelled. John and Nicole both saw the kangaroo hit the right front. It probably died. A minute or so later, after catching our breaths, we were driving even slower, and Nicole told us about an incident in Tasmania. Her boyfriend had hit a kangaroo, they stopped to move it to the roadside, and he went out to find a game warden. Nicole stayed behind with the stricken and weak animal. The cute face winced with pain, his breathing was labored, and the body shuddered occasionally. His mouthed open and blood fell out, then the eyes clouded and the kangaroo died. It was a sad, almost human story. John and I didn't want to return to the kangaroo.
With the gas gauge on red, we found a private campsite four kilometers south of Hall's Gap, set up, then John and I showered. Returning to the tent, I looked at the southern sky for the first time in Australia and immediately the Crosby, Stills, and Nash song played in my head, "When you see the Southern Cross for the first time...".
As I type, I am sitting in the car, which I have dubbed Busy-G after the license plate, watching kangaroos hopping and grazing and boxing around our tents and the trees. A possum recently sauntered by, overhead are large colorful birds, kind unknown.
Mo 2/1/99 - Three months on the road! / Hall's Gap, Grampians
Last night and this morning, I have seen many colorful parrots, cockatoos, and other birds. One parrot has a crimson body and long tail, blue and white on his wings. Another is a bright, lime green. Large white cockatoos with the funny feather crowns are present in abundance.
Our overnight walk started at the Hall's Gap tennis court. We packed our kit, I backed the car hard into the branches of a tree to hopefully curtail would be robber, and we set off for our first bushwalk. The trail followed a lack luster streambed through forest to the dried Venus Baths, an interesting v-shaped gorge of slab, then up in altitude to the Grand Canyon. The Grand Canyon does not resemble in the least our own, nor the one in southern France, but is on a small scale and one that is walked through. The limestone and quartzite rock has eroded to form pancake like walls that vary in distance from stretched fingertips to forty feet. We passed rock climbers who raved about the rock for their sport, and kept ascending.
The heat became a problem. We started the walk near noon, John and I carrying two one and a half liter bottles of water, Nicole only one liter. Initially I figured this enough for three people over a 11km (?) on moderate hills. However, to my amazement, Nicole emptied her bottle within forty-five minutes, and John christened his water filter, the resultant water still the brown of the river. At a carpark, a guy from Adelaide overheard or shouting across the lot in looking for water, and forfeited more than a liter for our cause. Through the Grand Canyon, one and a half hours later, I had conserved water too well and felt extremely exhausted, thirsty, and out of curiosity checked my pulse at 165. I stopped to rest a few times through this incline before reaching our highest point at the Pinnacle.
The Pinnacle is a hanging rock outcropping with an overview of Hall's Gap, a large dam made lake near our last nights camp, and of distance forest and farmlands. A strong and gracious wind blew into our faces as we hung over the trees far below, cooling our uncomfortably hot bodies. We found shade for lunch and lounged for a good hour, recovering from the strenuous walk, and talking little. The Adelaide man described the scary Nerve Test just nearby, a very narrow walk across rock suspended over a large arch, that tests judgement and balance. The park signposts were removed last year after an accident, and he was too nervous to attempt it. John and I both brightened at the description and had a go. The Nerve Test is forty feet long, forty feet above rock, the width of my two feet, and leads to nowhere. Two thirds of the way across, a jump is needed over a space which wasn't too much of a problem, but because of the angle shape of the rock, returning had us shimmying over this bit. It was good for a laugh.
Descending from the Pinnacle's hill brought us onto fairly flat ground accompanied by cooler afternoon air. We trekked through Sundial Camp where Nicole bummed a half liter of water from and elderly German couple sitting in their car. We were turning mad about water, as if we were lost in the desert, our life blood draining away. Even when we reached our nights destination, Rosea Campground, we nicked water from a sun shower left out on a picnic table. And even though I was shattered, I spent a good forty-five minutes walking the nearby roads in hope of a stream we heard of for a dip (it was dry). Eventually, a couple in the campground brought our water bottles to fill on their ride to town.
That night we met a foursome, an Aussie couple (the girl was young, blonde, and pretty) and two American males who are cruising the country and rock climbing. John was envious although he said they were very advanced and describing incredible climbs. They also told of renting motorcycles in Nepal, and travel in Indonesia. Not too late into the night, the couple had us giggling and whispering one liners to one another while they loudly attacked one another.
Tu 2/2/99 - Grampiens to Geelong
Last night was the first of three people in the pink tent, we all slept poorly. We rose early, at least according to my fifth watch which stop for forty-five minutes during the night, and set off to beat the heat and minimize the water problem. We trounced through Devil's Gap, the Pinnacle again, but
took a trail to the east of the Grand Canyon trail. Our arduous hike yesterday took five and a half hours, our return only two and a half hours.
We made a plan to stay with Nicole in Geelong, an hour west of Melbourne, and we invited her to carry on with us the Snowy Mountains. At her home, we met her roommates Hilda (?) and Daniel, did a couple of loads of wash, and John was able to check email until reprimanded for the length of call to Melbourne by Nicole. At night we took advantage of Australia cheap movie night and watched Adam Sandlers, "The Waterboy". Pretty stupid.
We 2/3/99 - Heading for Snowy Mts. / Geelong to Lakes Entrance
We ran errands, grocery shopped, and signed up at RAVC (like AAA) for insurance (full coverage, one year $A380 including a years membership). We finally left Geelong at 3pm after waiting for Nicole to pack. After too much deliberation, she decided to join us as far as Sydney.
The ride towards the Snowy Mountains was a long one. We hit Melbourne close to rush hour and drove through suburbs to Torak to pick up our London to Boston tickets at a Ticket Planet affiliate called Jetset Toorak. After further frustrating ourselves with traffic on the Princess Highway until we were eventually freed and cruising along the coast on what America would classify as a secondary road. We stopped around 5:30p, both John and I without lunch and hungry at a typical take away. It was owned and run by a happy, slightly cocky, Chinese man. He wore a black greasy mop of straight hair, one crooked eye, and forever smiling crooked teeth with badly receding gums. But he was super friendly, joking, and very personable. and even though I asked for an egg and cheese toasted instead of grilled and he smeared on grease just the same, I liked the guy. John and I also ordered cheeseburgers, and when I looked over the service counter and spotted suspicious black hunks in the beef, I walked around to the grill in a friendly manner to inquire of the deadly mystery- parsley.
I had figured making the Snowies today, but the lesson I am learning is of how big the country is and of the second class roads. It really is a big country, it took half a day to go the distance of a thumbnail. We made Lakes Entrance, a funny name for a town, found Eastern Beach Caravan Park, and also a suddenly noisy exhaust. I assumed that a small exhaust pipe on the forward engine which was covered in Silicon was the culprit, and worried about it most the night.
Good memories from New Zealand returned - sleeping within earshot of the ocean's waves crashing. I find the sound exciting and soothing, unusual and welcome We were a five minute walk from the beach, the stars were out in strength, but weakened as the moon came up big and round and orange.
Th 2/4/99 - Geelong toward Snowy Mts (Jindabyne)
Today was not fun.
I didn't want to do it, I found a number of more important tasks available -such as eating and packing up, but I eventually peeked under the hood, ah, bonnet. The silicon had worn off and the exhaust was so loud I idled out of the grounds. Nearby was an exhaust shop and a young man there quickly spotted a different, broken exhaust pipe running from the carburetor manifold to the front of the engine. Two exhaust leaks. He suggested that we drive to Winter Street Mechanics and have them weld it back together.
At Winter Street, Frank helped out by letting us work on the car in his yard. We had just bought two screw drivers and an adjustable. We also had pliers in a Leatherman. Out came the radiator fan, hoses were disconnected, and I yanked on the back nut for too long before the pipe was out. hey welded the pipe quickly., but in the mean time I found another coolant leak at the engine back. I pulled the hose off to find the nipple had corroded and was useless. The hose was a bypass from the heater core line to a return. I was utterly bummed, counting on pulling the engine as a solution. After much discussion with Frank and a mechanic, the good and long proven Aussie fix prevailed - disconnect it. In the states we would fix it as new, not here. Without much real choice, I drained the radiator, hacked off the stem, filed it, and slid the heater hose over the hole. The other end was block. No one knew for certain what the bypass did. The first exhaust leak, on the EGR (exhaust gas recirculator), had exhaust cement applied as a temporary fix.
After four hours, forty dollars, shorts covered with grease, and a burnt back (so my shirt wasn't ruined), we were on the road again. This wasn't good. We bought the car to save money on transportation and now we are spending both money and time on the car. We now had to finish the exhaust problem and still contend with potential cooling problems.
We left Frank's at 2:30p, and I drove us north three hours through Buchan and Suggna Buggan to Jindabyne. The mostly unsealed road crossed two park lands (Alpine State Park, and Mt. Kosciuszko Park) and covered two states. We drove from the state of Victoria to New South Wales. The scenery was good - hilly forests, some long open views, farmlands and pastures. The road alternated between red and yellow gravel. It was not big country, but pleasant. The road however, was not so pleasant - tire sliding gravel, curvy, ruts, and steep drop-offs. I attempted to moderate between speediness and safety, while John sat there staring like a deer into headlights.
Within a park boundary, we spotted a dingo ahead on a curve. The road was cut along such a steep hill that the dingo could not escape up or down, so simple ran ahead of the car for a full minute before taking a dive down into the trees.
The park office for the Snowy Mountains is in the town of Jindabyne. On Lake Jindabyne is the four and a half star Snowline Caravan Park, full of old relics for caravans, hopelessly aging each year. The amenities were good though, and the lake was could be seen from our tent, a hundred feet away.
Fr 2/5/99 - Kosciuszko Hike
An American from Rosea Campground termed it "Peak Bagging". I like that term. Snowy Mountain National Forest is not only he setting for Robert Redford's "Man from Snowy River", but also houses the continents highest peak, Mt. Kosciuszko. Although the challenge was formidable, we accepted, and were on our way to bagging each continents highest peaks - McKinley, Machu Pechu, Everest, Mt. Blanc, Kilimanjaro, and Kosciuszko.
The ride through Australia's skiing capital to our trailhead was enlightening an amusing. The area has the country's longest run, 3km over 670m of vertical. A resort we passed was plastered with fifteen short trail lifts close together. Without the vertical a skier can not transverse far.
Charlotte's Pass, 1780m, is the "highest, one of the oldest, most isolated resorts in Australia", above treeline, and a different scene from most we have witnessed. The trail to the continents highest peak is 9km one way, which is the more difficult route. The other option is to chairlift then walk 6.5km along wooden boardwalk. Kosciuszko is 2228m.
I was totally amazed that a continents highest peak could be had in 6.5km and it used to be worse - at one time you could drive to within 1.5km. All other continent highest are death defying experiences, here people walk with tennis shoes and shorts up 438m of vertical.
And our tough walk was on a gravel road, but enough of belittling the mountain, because the scenery was above treeline, in the alpine, and I do appreciate that. The land doesn't change much except to note that some large expanses are simply stretches of alpine vegetation, then suddenly there is an endless sight of large chewed boulders. There are purple and yellow patches of flowers, but most unusual is the glowing and shining green-silver grass.
Have ever been bothered by flies? Like, lots of them? We escaped the sandflys of New Zealand to be pursued by non-biting flies similar to house flies. As we hiked along, we constantly swatted flies away from our faces, our eyes, nose, ears, neck. To our horror, literally hundreds of flies settled on our packs, like John commented, "laying eggs all over us". He is especially bothered by these things, sometimes even running wildly away and flinging his arms to rid the pests. With a hundred on your pack, turn and feel and see a swarm of flies bumping into you. It is disgusting. At the summit, I pretended they did not bother me, tried to enjoy my lunch, but contrary, anger slowly built up inside.
We did do it though, we climbed the highest peak in Australia, and even crossed the Snowy River 4km from its source. Been there, done that.
Stopping at the only grocery in Jindabyne, we bought a dated lamb roast special (0.8kg, $A3.50) and a few other staple items. The caravan park was quiet and empty, and the fine kitchen area was ours alone.
Sa 2/5/99 - Jindabyne to Blue Mountains
tomato and cheese omelet with leftover pan fried leftover potatoes
john drove, left our appreciated caravan park at 11am
stopped Canberra (countries capitol) for lunch at foodcourt (indoor eating mall)
arrived Blue Mountains, 6pm, Blackhurst Caravan Park
Blue Mts are blue because of eucalyptus leaves which give off mist of oil
typed last four days until 12:30am
Su 2/6/99 - Blue Mts. to Sydney
The information center in Blackhurst provided information for canyoning (like kloofing), and our day hike, the choice being Mt. Solitude
It was a great hike, the Blue Mountains are much more appreciated then the Grampien's and Snowy's. The mountains are heavily forested, rising to sheer sandstone walls, flat with trees on top. The walk started with a very steep descent down the Golden Staircase, which we didn't look forward to walk back up, then flat for an hour to the bottom of Mt. Solitude. From here we were clambering over rock outcroppings to a high outcropping, one with exposure for a good lunch spot. It had great views and plenty of flat space to relax on. From our perch we watched others on the outcroppings below and people descending the tree covered Mt. Solitude. We enjoyed our perch for an hour, then headed back, eventually joining in a long line of people created by trail obstructions such as large trees, which were amusing to see people navigate. One particular fat tree that fell across the trail at a sloping angle was smooth and slippery, and people needed to hug and straddled the tree to prevent themselves from sliding along it off the trail and down into the thick. We passed people when possible, but ended up following a line of seven hikers, walking fairly quickly. The late afternoon was coming, and I concentrated on the Golden Staircase sign, not really on the surroundings. we hadn't noticed twenty minutes of new trail pass until coming upon a huge colorful wall of sandstone, streaks of red and white and black upon yellow. This feature was so astounding, we were forced into waking and relaxing we passed our turn off. In reconstructing our error, we realized a group of girls had been huddling around and sitting on the trail sign. Ooops!
In talking to different walkers, we were told of an Olympic sized pool cut into a gorge near Loren and river swimholes, one named Jellybean, near the park gate at Glenbrook. Both places sounded great, but with the time becoming late and skies becoming cool and overcast, we passed them up.
Finally, we were entering Sydney, the city that so many raved about, the city where many Commonwealth citizens stay on for months to work and socialize. King's Cross is a suburb a couple km from the city center that most backpackers lodge at. It has a colorful mix of funky eateries and bars and is a haven for prostitutes and drug addicts. Mos1t backpackers are along Victoria which runs parallel to the strip on King's Cross. We holed up for the night at a cheap backpacker, then made reservations at the Springfield Lodge for the next night. John had been talking about wanting sushi for months. I stayed mainstream, no being close to daring, while I watched him consumed plate after plate of salmon roe and eel and other delectables. Reaching Sydney and King's Cross felt like an accomplishment, we were excited and tired and relaxed and melted into the meal and just happy to be in Sydney.