Chat Shit

Moving...

2008-10-30T13:32:00.002+08:00

The blog. Not me. Its gonna be at http://www.blogabond.com/chat_shit

Go say hey. Oh, and leave lotsa lovely comments...

CLICK

Why...

2008-09-23T16:22:00.002+08:00

...do customers insist on calling me to practice their Stupid?

My Hair Is Evil And Must Be Stopped

2008-09-03T18:17:00.002+08:00

On account of a combination of a lack of time, abject laziness and being utterly bored of the stereotypical regulation Short N Spiky cut I've been letting my hair get to what passes for long in my world and ok, so whilst its not quite down to my arse quite frankly its frightening.

Back in the UK, years of bleach on bleach meant my hair was in shocking condition, the ends couldn't be legally defined as hair anymore and if you coupled that with the Nasty In Between Stage of hair growth you got something resembling a Tumble Dried Hamster intent on world domination. Since I started travelling and decided that money was better spent on goon rather than hair dye my barnet has recovered and is apparently taking revenge. Current Hair Terror Status is verging on mulletous. Attempts to tame it with overpriced product have proved futile, only the cunning use of hats can slow the onslaught of the follicle uprising.

Mullets are generally frowned upon in civilised society apart from in some parts of Australia such as Adelaide and also right here in New Zealand where, looking around, you'd think they were fucking compulsory. See, three months in the country and I'm practically local.

Now where did I leave that sheep?

Life So Far

2008-08-25T15:11:00.001+08:00

I'm ill and not "Where's All My Money Gone, Why Do I Smell Of Kebabs And What's This Traffic Cone Doing In My Bed" kind of ill.
More of a "Sat In The Office Coughing Into The Air Conditioning Whilst Wishing I Wasn't A Temp So I Could Take Full Advantage Of The Company Sick Pay Scheme" kind of ill which of course is infinitely worse but at least I'm legally allowed to bitch about it without smug looks from people eating fry ups.

And yes I said office, I'm a Call Centre Monkey again and no, I have no idea how this happened but my sanity already started packing last week and is threatening to move out permanently.

I do not like customers. I do not wish to service them. It doesn't help that customers take Stupid Lessons and are under the impression that their phone call is the most important thing to happen to me that day.

I wanted to work in a factory, I called the agency and told them I wanted to make the same thing over and over again for 8 hours a day because that's the kind of ambitious go-getter I am. Apparently they had nothing like that but they practically creamed themselves when they saw I'd spent two years taking verbal abuse off the good people of the UK because the inept depots once again failed to deliver their water on time and this was somehow my fucking fault. Not that I'm bitter or anything. Oh no.

*twitches a bit*

I also spend 2 hours a day at the backpackers vacuuming, mopping and hoping to god that the wet patch I just put my hand in on a mattress was where someones hot water bottle leaked and isn't in fact piss and I spend Friday and Saturday nights getting a room full of queers drunk up at Family Bar although I'm not sure any of this will counteract the fattening effects of working in an office with a vending machine full of cookies and a Subway across the car park so basically I'm doomed, at least my waistline is anyway. And my pocket, I need three jobs just so I can afford the vast quantities of chocolate required to survive working in customer service and the vodka required to overcome the trauma of dealing with people who I'm surprised have the mental capacity to operate a telephone, let alone use it to call me and make my day miserable.

Anyway, if you'll excuse me I'm off to drink some tea and take calls from people who are under the grave misconception that I give a flying fuck.

A Word Of Advice

2008-07-07T15:35:00.003+08:00

Maybe it's just me.

Maybe it's because I'm weirded out by empty backpackers run by a man in a baseball hat that somehow looks slightly too large for his head and his European missus, or maybe it's just because I think you should be allowed to bring your mates into the place you're staying with it after all being your temporary home.

It could be because I resent being told I essentially have go to bed at 11pm because they're closing the TV room, communal area, kitchen and dining room at that time or perhaps its just because I prefer to do my own laundry as opposed to handing it over to two people who are barely about.

So yeah. Maybe it's just me that hated staying at Auckland International Backpacker in Parnell.

Probably because I have issues with people other than my mother washing the skid marks out of my knickers.

One Month In The Capital

2008-06-24T08:01:00.001+08:00

With Wellington being the nation's capital an all that there are plenty of things to do to keep you entertained and some of them don't even involve alcohol. Most do involve coffee on account of the copious amounts of cafes, each one with its little fan club that claims it does the Best Coffee In Wellington. Well whatever gets your rocks off, once you've added the three spoons of sugar that makes coffee palatable it all tastes the same to me.

Aaanyway, here we go. Tourist type stuff I got up to before taking off up north to the nation's Should Be The Capital, Auckland.

Wellington Cable Car.... Rowena's Lodge.... Wellington From Mt Vic; At Night

Cable Car To The Botanic Gardens
On account of the fact New Zealand is made entirely of hills you'll find that some of the tourist attractions involved climbing up them or rolling down them. In Wellington they have a handy cable car that'll take you up one of the aforementioned hills up to the Botanic Gardens where you get to spend a few hours wandering round and looking at trees and more hills.

Wellington is one of those places that'll either get you really fit really quickly or have you crawling to the NHS and begging for a new pair of lungs.

Mount Victoria
Take a group of backpackers. Remove alcohol. Add boredom and a Mancunian bloke called Dan who suggests we all walk up Mount Victoria in the dark.

It's a stunning view from the top in all honesty, I still haven't been up in the daylight though. When I pass back through I'll head back up there. In the car.

Red Rock Seal Colony
So you drive for about 15 minutes to the beginning of the 4WD only road, park up and begin the 1.5 hour trek to see the seals that are sprawled out over the rocks at various points along the walk. It's so cool to see them.

I could so easily be a seal, me. I could get fat and blubbery and spend my days lounging around looking bored and stinking of fish. In fact catch me on any given Sunday and I'm almost there.

Getting Away
It took me a grand total of three days to get fed up of answering the retarded questions of people that in England we'd describe as A Bit Council and picking stuff up that the general public were too fucking lazy to return to the shelves themselves for a measly, piddling NZ$12 per hour so I handed my notice in and headed up to Auckland. It took a mere 10 hours by car to get there followed by about 90 minutes of driving round the city, swearing loudly at the map book which was clearly lying to me. After not being able to find the backpackers I was booked into I ended up in a tent for two nights at City Garden Lodge before there was room inside.

As feral and outdoorsy as I like to think I am not even I'm happy about camping out when the temperature drops to 1 degree and you're kept awake all night wondering if the tent you borrowed leaks.

Fair weather camper indeed. I want to go back to the Tropics.

Random Nuggets Of Information #5

2008-06-13T21:29:00.003+08:00

Getting to a new place and Settling In means I haven't had a great deal to blog about that doesn't involve stress and/or drinking. Fortunately my ego is big enough to continue telling the world all about me me me whether they're interested or not so brace yourself for a few paragraphs all about my first month in, as the locals say, Nu Zuland.

I have no idea how they'd pronounce "elocution."

Finding Work
Three weeks it took me to get a job. Three bloody weeks! I've never attended so many interviews that have those inane questions such as;
"Why do you want to work here?" (Because you'll give me money.)
"What's the most important thing you look for in a job." (Wages.)
"How would your best friend describe you?" (An anally retentive nerd with bad hair and appalling taste in music.)
"Describe yourself in 5 words." (Seriously? Ok. Cold, tired, narky and sexually frustrated.)
"And what could you bring to the company?" (Donuts on Fridays if that's what it takes!)

Eventually I got 40 hours a week in a national chain store where for the first time in 10 years I have to take my piercings out for work. Yep, I'm a corporate retail whore. Every day before work I put all my jewellery in little sealy bags and wave goodbye to my thought processes for 8.5 hours, then I don my bright red shirt complete with name badge in case enough of my brain disintegrates and I forget who I am and spend the day rearranging things on racks.

And How Can I Help You?
It's the most boring job in the world surpassed only by that time I decided that making plastic envelopes was a viable career option but it's a job init. They pay shit wages but they do pay wages and after all, that's the most important thing we look for in a job, right?

...Right?

New Wheels
I'm now the proud owner of a Toyota Camry station wagon. Thankfully it's not the 3.9 litre 6 cylinder beast my last car was given the shocking price of fuel over here but it's big enough to sleep two people without kicking each other in the head or waking up with cramps. And by waking up I mean from the kind of broken attempt at sleep that happens when you're folded in half on the back seat of a sedan. I'm also a bit disturbed at the longness of it and anyone who ever saw me try and park the Falcon will understand why but I love it. Not as much as the Falcon yet, I loved that car about as much as it's possible to love a car without it being A Bit Funny but I'm sure once me and the Camry (who is apparently called Harry) are on the road we'll develop that special bond that single people with no pets have with their vehicles.

Shaggin' Wagon

And In Other News
About 4 years after everyone else in the world I'm now addicted to playing Scrabulous through Facebook. I'm not very good at it though, I get excited if I can make words of more than four points and it doesn't help that I keep getting letters the Welsh would cream over. But come on, bring it on, I'll 'av ya.

The Only Gay In The Village
If this continues I'll have to be physically restrained in the cucumber section at New World.

That is all.

Welcome To New Zealand, Eh Bro

2008-05-21T19:05:00.001+08:00

The question I get asked more than any other is, "How do you get through customs?" which is a reference to the unnecessary amount of metal I have through various parts of my head. My usual reply (which is always accompanied by a "my my aren't you funny and original and I've never heard that one before" sort of laugh) is "No worries, I never get stopped." Now I was never particularly good in English Lit, my understanding of irony isn't strong but I think this might be it.

So I made it to New Zealand yesterday with only minor hassles and by minor I mean being accused of smuggling drugs by a dog with a penchant for squeaky toys being handled by an eight foot Maori woman. I may be exaggerating slightly but when you're sat there while a man shouts at you for putting your hand in your pockets with visions of latex gloves flashing through your mind things do seem a bit out of proportion, I mean, I've never been in trouble with the police or customs before. This was a whole new thing for me. I shake when I'm pulled over for a random breath test even if I haven't had a drink for three days. I don't deal well with people in uniforms thinking I've done stuff I haven't, I just ooze guilt from every pore, I feel like I have "I DID IT AND DAMMIT I'D DO IT AGAIN!" written across my forehead in permanent marker.

Before the customs guy searched my bag he told me if they didn't find anything they might strip search me and you know what was going through my mind? Honestly? All I could think was, fuck, I wish I'd bothered shaving this morning. If I was gonna have to get naked in front of strangers whilst stone cold sober I could at least look vaguely hot instead of having a minge you could sand door frames with. I made a mental note to improve personal grooming before any future flights just in case.

So he searched my bags and jacket, all the time asking me loads of questions about my drug use and have I come into contact with anyone who uses drugs and if I did drugs it was ok as long as I didn't try and bring them into New Zealand. He emptied everything out onto an aluminium bench, went through all my pockets (bear in mind I wear combat trousers, I'm a huge fan of pockets) and by the time he'd gone through my bags and found nothing he let me go.

Without a strip search.

Shame. It'd have been the most action I'd seen in a fortnight.

Bula, Fiji

2008-05-19T18:58:00.001+08:00

Arrived Fiji: 09/05/08
Left Fiji: 20/05/08

New Zealand conjures up many images. A country steeped in tribal history and culture, it makes me think of the Haka and fierce warriors, beautiful countryside and stunning vistas. It also conjures up images of sheep, snow and rain as opposed to sunshine, beaches and tropical warm waters ideal for someone who is adverse to being a bit nippy to learn to scuba dive in.

So I went to Fiji for 11 days.

Over 300 islands make up Fiji. Places like the Yasawas and Robinson Crusoe island are where the backpackers flood to but I just wanted a quiet time. Oh come on, I'm only a year off Nearly Thirty, the idea of sitting on my arse and reading a book appeals to me now and anyways I didn't want any alcohol related distractions while I was learning to dive. I'd booked a dorm room at McDonalds Beach Cottages on Nananu-I-Ra island, sort of at the top of the Viti Levu (the main island), where the biggest inconvenience is waiting for your hammock to swing the right way so you can reach your beer.

After one night in Nadi I was picked up by a taxi driver called Andy who would be driving me to the boat that'd take me to the island. Its a two and a half hour drive (cost FJD$130), most of which I slept for, waking up at intervals to find I was leaning as far to the right as my seat belt would allow because it doesn't matter where you sit, there's something about sleeping whilst sitting up that causes you to gravitate towards the person sitting closest to you with you tongue hanging out and drool trickling down your chin in search of a stranger's shoulder. The shoulder of your partner or best friend will do if there's no one else but if there's someone you've never met in your life then that's where the drool wants to be and will defy physics to get there.

I digress. *wipes chops*

After the drive and a 15 minute boat ride I checked into McDonalds, introduced myself to Mark and Margaret who were also staying there, got a beer and as I sat down the heavens opened with that kind of warm, torrential rain you only find in the tropics.

Top: Andy.... Obligatory Hammock Photo.... Sunset Over Nananu-I-Ra
Bottom: Mark And Margaret (No, Mark Isn't Nekkid In That Photo).... McDonald's Boat.... Pretty
It rained for a few of the days I was there but you generally don't mind when it's that warm, the Fijians were freezing but I just kept it in mind that I was going to a place that warranted central heating and engine coolant was called anti-freeze and counted my lucky stars. And anyway, after couple of days I started my course with Kaviti Divers and spent most of my time underwater.

The course started with a man called Bola rocking up to where I was chilling one evening, handing me a PADI handbook and asking me to complete sections 1 to 3 before I started the actual course in two days time. I assured him I would then proceed to get drunk with Mark and Margaret on Fiji Bitter, the section of my brain that contained the information on which sections I was meant to complete being semi destroyed. The next day I began my studies hoping that I'd remembered which bits to do.

I haven't had to learn anything out of a book for over ten years let alone do tests, by the end of it my brain was fried and my highlighter pen had run out. I only had it for drawing on maps, education wasn't part of the deal and clearly it had issues with it but that was the boring bit over with. Jiorji was my instructor, a good bloke who greeted me with the words, "Bula bula! Welcome to sunshine Fiji!" I glanced back at the drizzle. Right.

After a few confined water dives and practising skills I hope I never have to use such as losing my regulator or mask or my air running out (come on, how much practise can prepare you for that kind of panic??) we headed out one morning to the Bligh Waters for my first open water dive. How exciting?

Diver!.... Some Fish An Stuff.... Sea Snake.... Lion Fish.... Jiorji And A Fat, Red Me
Despite not pumping my body full of goon and snake bite the previous night I was still sick as a dog. Apparently this time it was because I had sausage for breakfast. I wouldn't mind but they weren't even good sausages. The sausages I deposited into the Bligh Waters were the worst bangers I've ever eaten in my life. But anyway, I still got a couple of dives in but had to abandon the third dive in favour of alternating between curling up in a small ball, whimpering quietly and hanging my head over the side.

The Bligh Waters are a stunning place to learn to dive though, we saw some of the coolest things. After a day off we went back out to finish my course then I went out on my certified dive. Over the course of all my dives we saw Murray eels, heaps of fish and coral, barracudas, a white tipped reef shark, a sea snake and a couple of lion fish. Two years in the land of Things That Can Poison You Or Tear You Limb From Limb taught me nothing, I still followed the sea snake for a photo op. I think they're pretty venomous, they just don't care enough to bite you is all. Lion fish are poisonous too. I'm not sure if you have to actually suck them in order to die or if they just have to take a fancy to your extremities. I'll look it up and let you know.

I fucking love diving so much, seriously, its amazing. It's a whole different world, I can't wait to start diving in other parts of the world and to do some more courses. It ain't cheap but hey, gotta have a hobby apart from travel and what two hobbies go better together than travel and diving? Apart from drinking and shagging but that aside.

Anyway, its official. Finally I'm a diver.

And not just of the muff variety.

Bye Then, Australia

2008-05-08T17:46:00.001+08:00

It's been an awesome 2 years in Australia and I leave tomorrow for a quick holiday in Fiji. I've seen and done some amazing things and met the best people to do them with. From the arid, red deserts of the centre to the laid back variety of the west and the bustling, busy east, we've done a lap and taken a drive to the middle. Some people are gonna be mates for life, we'll meet again somewhere around the world, maybe go on another adventure or just relive the hot days and messy goon nights. Other people I'll lose touch with as time goes by, we had fun and I'll never forget them but every single one of these people, these fleeting moments have made Australia the once in a lifetime adventure it was.

The places I've been and the things I've seen have been incredible but the people I've done them with made it special. Anyone can stand and gaze over a stunning lookout, relax in a naturally thermal pool, swim in a crystal clear waterfall plunge pool, watch a spectacular sunset or breathtaking moon rise but if you have your mates to share it with it somehow brings it to life. You have someone to laugh with, play with and someone to talk about the day with as you chill out in the garden at a backpackers with a cask of goon or as you kick back round a camp fire and stare at the unimaginable blanket of stars above you.

Backpackers on the same journey as you become your family and you become theirs, you see them day after day at the hostel or you head out on a road trip together and you quickly get to know and trust them like you've known them for years, you can't remember life without them. You cook together, eat together, drink together and sleep together. Not like that you filthy minded... ok sometimes yeah...

Even the people you meet when you settle in a town or city for a while, the locals all affect you and change the course of your life in some small way. Four months are like eight while you travel, its not a so-called normal life or situation, everything seems somehow intensified or speeded up. You sweep into the lives of locals, become their friends and they become part of who you are and affect the way you think then you're gone again just as quickly, an insignificant blip in time and you wonder if they'll remember you like you'll remember them, if you affected them like they touched you and added that bit extra to your life. Sometimes these are the hardest people to say goodbye to, I've said it before, its so hard to explain to someone why you have to leave when sometimes you don't want to, you just know its the best decision.

I think that sometimes I lose touch with whats important. Its not about how many mountains you can climb or rivers you can swim, how many places you can travel to or cultures you can absorb, its about who you do it with because that person or those people are the ones that are going to make your adventure everything it can be and so much more. It doesn't have to be the same people for every journey or road trip, it could be with someone you've known for a while or someone you met a week ago in the hostel and drunkenly agreed you were going to head to the next destination together (yep, that's happened). You might even think you'll be doing part of the journey alone them someone wanders up and asks if they can come too.

And the hardest part, the part I'll never get used to is letting go and saying goodbye. Starting afresh with a new country and a whole new set of people to get to know but then isn't that what its all about? Meeting people? Starting new friendships without letting the old ones fall by the wayside? Going on new and totally different adventures with new and totally different people?

Bring on the unknown.

Look, Mum, I'm In A Drag Show

2008-05-06T20:44:00.002+08:00

I hate being on stage, I always have, I'll avoid it as much as possible but sometimes it can't be helped like that time I was sent on stage at Connections to pick the whips up or the time they put me on stage in front of about 15000 people to set up a prop at the Kylie gig in Perth. I know its only a big deal in my own head, no one else cares or is even paying much attention so it's doable with only minor psychological scarring and the nightmares go away after a few days.

I have vague recollections of being dragged onto stage on my birthday, sipping an Ella Va'Lay Surprise (surprise, you've lost the use of your basic motor functions) but again, being pissed helped and everything else was drowned out by the sound of liver caving in on itself.

Then there's the Sportsman Hotel Annual Drag show which this year happened to fall on my last night on the bar. This meant I would still be staff and with it being a staff drag show an all that I'd be expected to perform. On stage. In front of people that were actually looking at me!

I toyed with the idea of deportation or sustaining some sort of crippling injury during a freak accident but I kinda need a good track record in order to get into other countries and I generally don't move around enough to cause myself a mischief so I resigned myself to the fact and me and Chris decided we were going to do Kids by Kylie and Robbie and anyway, how hard could girl-to-boy drag be?

The hardest part was working out how to strap my tits down, they're c-cups, they don't just invert y'know so after extensive experimentation with bandages I ended up just wearing a sports top underneath a shirt. My package was easy enough, I stuffed enough socks in my knickers to make a donkey blush and now I get it, I finally realise why blokes adjust themselves so much. A bulge is a really convenient place to rest your hand during any other one handed task such as driving, drinking beer or flipping through TV channels, for the entire time I had it in I couldn't for the life of me remember what I usually did with the other hand during the aforementioned tasks but then this is why blokes cant multitask; "Can't do anything with the other hand right now, dear, I'm very busy holding my crotch."

Finally, Sasha drew a beard on me and darkened my eyebrows to complete the look and I spent the night trying to resist the urge to scratch my imaginary bollocks in front of a room full of people and wondering who I should start a fight with at the kebab van later on coz he looked at my bird funny ok?

Y'know I've never been so scared in my whole life, ever. I can't recall a time I felt that sick because I had to do something I was reluctant to do. I don't actually remember much of being on stage, I don't know if I remembered to mime or not, I remember bits and bobs and just wanting to get off stage at the end and Chris not letting me by the time I did get off I was a sweating, shaking wreck. Despite the date on the top of this post I was in Fiji by the time I got the bottle up to watch the video back.

It seems I have an abject inability to shimmy, one or both shoulders forget what they're meant to be doing resulting in something resembling a minor fit and there wasn't much dancing so much as wandering aimlessly round the stage waving my arms about occasionally but hey, I did remember to mime. Bella Chimes (Chris) was brilliant though, no way on this earth could I have gotten up there on my own and while she was dragging me back on stage against my will she said some awesome things that I wasn't expecting so thanks again :)

Top: Bella Chimes.... Alana Speed.... Jaq And Oscar
Middle: Mini Mae.... Violet Crumble.... Peter (No Idea Of His Drag Name)
Bottom: Imogen Wild.... Chastity Belt.... Saturday Night Divas
I had a top time working at the Sporties, everyone has been brilliant, both the staff and patrons. The boys (and some of the girls...) that drink there are some of the warmest, funniest people I've ever met and they made me welcome right from my first day. I love the atmosphere there, the look on the faces of the people who haven't worked out where they are when a 7' drag queen sashays past, watching the pool comps and whiling the day shifts away chatting to the regulars.

Yep, I'm gonna miss working at a place where at the mention of a boys vs girls pool comp where everyone has to wear a dress the girls groan in horror and the boys start picking out their outfit.

Coping With Stress

2008-04-20T14:08:00.001+08:00

So I noticed a white hair in with my own this morning and assuming it was a labrador hair (I live in John's house with two labs) I tried to pull it out and it hurt.

It hurt because it was attached to my fucking head!

It is a clinically proven fact that lesbians can't function without some small amount of crisis in their lives. The scientific term is Dramaticus Rugmunchus, or Lesbian Drama, and if we don't have this we go out and find something to give us cause for grief such as sleeping with the biggest bull dyke on the scenes ex girlfriend or dating a known psychopath. I like my face the shape it is so to get my stress fix I decided to send my ~~goon~~ water damaged passport off for renewal at the last possible minute which means that with less than three weeks until I have to leave the country its still not back.

I still don't have a New Zealand working holiday visa but I do have flights to Fiji which should in theory relax me but I ain't going anywhere without this little book containing the worst photo of me ever taken apart from that time I passed out by the river in Perth and Raz sat on my head with his pants down and took pictures. Goon has alot to answer for.

Damn this genetic addiction to drama I have, if only I could live without some small amount of crisis in my life then maybe I wouldn't be turning slowly grey at the age of *coughs27coughs.*

Thank Nestle for Loreal.

The Last Australian Adventure: Part 2

2008-03-07T16:05:00.002+08:00

Sydney Mardi Gras 2008 - 01/03/08
I've wanted to go to Sydney Gay And Lesbian Mardi Gras for years, this was on my ever expanding list of Things To Do Before I Die and what better year to go than the 30th anniversary of the event? It's not something you can write about not least because the power of coherent communication leaves you after a few drinks and you end up hanging over the railings brandishing a rainbow flag in one hand and the remnants of a bourbon can in the other screaming "Happy Mardi Graaaaaas!" at the parade as it marches past.

Top Row: Dykes On Bikes.... The 4 Of Us At The Railings.... The Parade
Bottom Row: No, Matt Isn't Really That Tall.... Pretty Colours.... Nat, Me, AJ, Loody, Hayley, Jaz And Darragh (AKA Samantha)
The atmosphere was electric, I know I'm not even going to be able to write anything resembling a decent paragraph but it lived up to expectations, I got pissed and had fun and was part of one of the biggest pride events in the world.

It's so easy to get caught up in the moment but so hard to put into words.

Taronga Zoo - 03/03/08
Maybe it wasn't the wisest idea in the world to go to a place that smells of animals and their shit the day after a big weekend when your stomach is plotting revenge and your liver is advertising for a new place to live but this was the last day Loody would have a chance to go to the zoo before she flew back to Germany for three weeks and anyway, I'd been told this zoo was brilliant.
And it is. You get the ferry over from Circular Quay thus giving you even more Lets Take Photos Of The Opera House opportunities to torture your peers with then they take you by a cable car system they call Sky Safari into the zoo itself. I'm a huge fan of cable cars or indeed anything that'll get you up an incline with minimal leg movement. Tickets cost about $44 for return ferry, Sky Safari and zoo entry, buy them from the ferry terminal at Circular Quay.

So me, Loody, Hayley and Jaz (Loody's housemates) embarked on a magical mystery tour with Hayley in the lead brandishing a map. Taronga is definitely one of the best zoos I've been to, you can easily spend a day there and everything is really well displayed and thought out. Even the bird show is surpassed only by the kind of bird show you get in Kings Cross at the seedier clubs.

Top Row: Riding The Sky Safari.... Giraffes In Front Of The Sydney Skyline.... Roaring Good Time
Bottom Row: Jaz, Loody And Me.... Snake Necked Turtle Munching On A Mouse.... Well I've Kissed Worse
As well as things you'd expect to find in a zoo such as animals, keeper talks and the ever obligatory reptile show Taronga has all kinds of exciting things such as statues you can climb on but probably aren't meant to and cardboard with holes cut out that you can stick your head through for a comedy photo op. Weirdly though they also have them old style scales at every turn that you put a dollar in and stand on to weigh yourself.

So I did and the evil bastard piece of machinery told me I was 70kg.

Seventy! Can't they program these things to lye?

I vowed to cut down on them chicken shish things I'd gotten addicted to and jumped off the scales before the keepers threw me in the elephant enclosure.

Thunder Jet And The Minus 5 Bar - 05/03/08
There are a million things to do in Sydney that I never got round to doing for one reason or another but the things we did do fucking rocked. Today was my last full day in Sydney and Alan and Nat had spent some time the previous day looking on the internet for stuff to do and one of those things was Thunder Jet which is a very fast boat that quite literally gives you a taste of the harbour and beyond. We got there early, paid our $79 and were told that the front was the roughest ride on the boat so me and AJ made sure we got it.

Pre-Soaking.... Note The Only Four Not Wearing Ponchos.... Piss Wet Through
It's. So. Cool! They give you the option at the beginning to wear a yellow poncho, we decided not to because at the end of the day you're gonna get a soaking whether you're covered in plastic or not then they speed around, getting into the wash of other boats, finding the biggest waves, spinning you round, stopping suddenly and nose diving into the water so that about 1000 litres of water hits you in the face and sloshes around your lungs. Its fucking awesome! And me and Nat were the only two of us four that didn't have bruising from holding on like pussies ;)

Afterwards we headed back to Alan's leaving half the harbour trickling off the train to get dry before we went back to Circular Quay and the Minus 5 ice bar. Now this is very very cool, pun fully intended because yes, I'm really that lame. Its a bar made entirely of ice complete with sculptures where they can only serve vodka cocktails because everything else would freeze which is Absolut-ly (ok, I promise I'll stop now) fine by me because vodka is the nectar of the gods.
It's $30 entry and they only give you half and hour in there but to be honest that's all you need, it's about -13 degrees in there. You'll never bitch about the heat again and thank the dear sweet god of insulation for the thick Eskimo coats or my nipples would have taken out half the ice sculptures every time I turned round.

Nat, AJ, Alan And Me Keeping Warm With Vodka
I'd spent most of my time in Sydney with Alan, Matt, Nat and AJ which was awesome. Alan is a great tour guide and a top bloke and him and the others just made my time in Sydney what is was, it wouldn't have been the same without them, I had an amazing two weeks.

And as for the most hyped city in the country, Sydney is an awesome place to visit but I totally couldn't live there without selling a kidney and swapping a limb for a new liver.

How Proud Are We Really?

2008-03-01T08:39:00.000+08:00

Today is Sydney Gay And Lesbian Mardi Gras 2008, my personal Holy Grail of gay culture and this year is the 30th anniversary of the event that began when a hoard of queers marched down Oxford Street demanding acceptance and equality and the right to bulk buy sequins withour persecution, the things that today we take for granted.

I love Pride events, they're a wicked excuse to get pissed and they're always massively fun. I firmly believe there is a direct correlation between your anal capacity and your ability to throw a party thus Pride events are generally the highlight of my year.
Even Oxford has had a go at it for the past few years although it pissed it down in '03 and '04 and one year the neighbours made us turn the music down. Still, I hope they keep trying.

Anyway, this is a serious post... What...? Stop, come back... I promise it'll hurt less than bum sex...

A mate of mine refuses to go to any Pride ever, he thinks the march is a waste of time because we have nothing left to fight for and he doesn't see what we have to be so proud of. Ok he has a point, just because we sleep with members of the same sex, what, do we want a fucking medal?
Another friend says why bother shouting for something we already have - Equality.

In the UK at least we pretty much have everything we want on a material level if nothing else.
We can adopt kids, join the army, Section 28 has been repealed, the gay age of consent is now equal to the heterosexual one, we can even “marry” thus giving us the right to messy divorces and bitter custody battles over the cats just like real people.

No, we don’t have to fight anymore in that sense.

But all over the world gays and lesbians are persecuted, beaten, even jailed and executed purely on the grounds of their sexuality. What about them? Why are we sitting back smugly while this still happens in the world?

And we might even have everything we ever wanted on paper but even in the UK and Australia homosexuality is still a taboo subject. There are still people out there who batter us, spit at us and shout abuse at us in the street and only when this persecution has been eradicated, when the bigots have been shown that their behaviour will no longer be tolerated by the community, only then will Pride cease to be a War Cry and become purely a voice of Thanks.

Thank You to the people who did have to fight. The men and women throughout the years who risked their freedom and even their lives so we could have the right to equality. The men and women who wouldn’t roll over and let the right-wingers and the homophobes walk all over us.

Pride, to me, isn’t just a party, a celebration of our diversity and strength. To me, Pride is a way of saying “Thank You!” to these people. Thank you to those who stood up for us as a community, who burnt that closet, stood tall and proud and shouted for our rights as human beings.
Pride is a Thank You as well as letting the world know that we're not done yet. There are still issues to be addressed and challenges to be faced, maybe not on our own doorstep but the problems of our communities around the world are our problems too.

We are here, we are queer and we are no longer second class citizens. We have rights and we are equal, people have fought long and hard to get us where we are today and if that’s not something to be proud of I don’t know what is.

The Last Australian Adventure: Part 1

2008-02-29T17:11:00.002+08:00

Arrived Sydney: 22/02/08
Left Sydney: 06/03/08

The initial plan was to move to Sydney before Mardi Gras, find work and live there until my visa expired but I love my job at the Sporties and didn't see the point in uprooting myself right at the end of my visa in order to go through the whole job search thing again when I had one here to come back to so I did that thing that Normal People With Normal Lives do.

I went on a two week holiday.

Despite the fact I believe that buses were put on this earth to enhance human suffering I decided to get one to Sydney on account of the fact I don't think that my nerves could have withstood negotiating and parking in a city that size after spending so long in places like Broome and Alice Springs. If Cairns terrified me when I first got there then Sydney would be the end of me, they'd find me curled up in some dark corner of Kings Cross weeping gently and dark corners in Kings Cross aren't places you want to be.

I was adamant I wasn't getting pissed the night before either even though the day I was travelling was my birthday. Knowing my luck I'd end up sat next to the fattest person going to Sydney that year thus depriving me of adequate bum space or someone with little or no concept of personal hygiene and I can't deal with that at the best of times, never mind when my liver has gone on strike and my stomach is wishing me dead but Carl, one of the guys I work with had very different ideas. I remember the white russians, the vodkas and the pretty coloured cocktails. I even remember the absinthe shot and the cocktail made of ice cream that a friend of mine tasted before declaring it'd kill me. Then I woke up in my bed fully clothed and shaking just hours from having to board a bus and sit on it for 17 hours.

Shaz, Dom And John On My Birthday.... Ella Va'Lay Surprise.... Carl, Me And Graham
I dragged myself to the transit centre to alternate between sitting in the air conditioning with my head on the table and kneeling in front of the toilet. Thankfully the bus was half empty and I had two seats to curl up on with my face in my pillow, praying to whatever god that would listen that I would follow them for eternity if they'd just stop the bus from smelling like air freshener.

17 hours on a coach isn't as bad as it sounds though. No, really it isn't. We got two stops at roadhouses for pie consumption and they showed a couple of movies. The rest of the time I slept off the hang over and before we knew it we were pulling into Central station at some god awful hour in the morning. I got a train to Kings Cross, checked into Mates Place backpackers where I cracked open a beer then resumed sleeping because sleeping is good practice for relaxing.

Well, might as well start as you mean to go on.

Dykes On Bikes Bike And Tattoo Show: 24/02/08
Dykes On Bikes. The girls that lead the Mardi Gras parade every year because if you didn't let them they'd punch you.

Loody, who was now living in Sydney with a couple of mates wanted to go the the Bike And Tattoo Show so me and Darragh who'd just got back in from Ireland the same day I arrived in the nation's Not The Capital rocked up to the Hamilton Hotel in Camperdown to check it out. I like bikes and tattoos so I was looking forward to it. Dykes scare me though despite being one, that much estrogen in one place can't be a good thing, and they terrified Darragh who eventually left because he felt intimidated once he realised he wasn't the butchest one there.

I had an awesome day though, it was perfect weather for sitting in a beer garden getting slowly drunk and the two girls who played there, I think they were called Blue House, rocked. I love afternoon drinking.

Blue House.... Bikes. As Expected.... Winning Best Front Tattoo
As promised there were bikes and tattoos as well as a raffle, a wet t-shirt competition, and a singing man who had a great voice but there was far too much thrusting considering he was performing to a room full of lesbians.

Then came the tattoo show which had different categories like best leg, best back etc so when best front came round I was urged onto stage by Loody, two random lesbians and an afternoon with Jim Beam. There's not enough Jim Beam in the world to get me to take my top off though despite the best efforts of the girl with the microphone and the crowd. But anyway, I won and I'm ignoring the fact there were only two other entrants in that category coz I got a shiny plastic trophy thing and $100 worth of pain to be spent at a local tattoo parlour and y'know there were some pretty heavily tattooed ladies there.

And I use the word "ladies" with tongue firmly in cheek.

Ultimate Tourist
There are a number of things that are compulsory to see in and around Sydney or you'll be pointed at in the street and mocked by your peers. One is Kings Cross, with its reputation for being a dodgy, seedy strip of nightclubs, some people say it's cleaned up its act in recent years and indeed it might have. I only got offered drugs three times and a hooker once, which amused me, there were two of them and as I wandered past one of them asked me if I wanted a girl. I politely declined their kind offer of minge and as I passed them I heard the other say, "that is a girl..." Dammit those C-cups always give it away.

Two others are an opera house and a bridge that is conveniently located over a harbour in Sydney. You might have heard of them. They must be photographed repeatedly from every available angle in order to inflict maximum suffering on those who are foolish enough to ask if you got lots of nice photos of your holiday while you hang over their shoulder and give them a full running commentary.

Come on then, lets get it over with...

Top Row: Sydney Opera House
Middle Row: Sydney Harbour Bridge
Bottom Photo: As Seen From The Royal Botanic Gardens
They are cool though and they make you feel like you're really in Sydney, its something you see so much in other peoples photographs so to actually be standing there and looking at it is sort of surreal. I didn't even realise the Opera House was actually three buildings.

Having a personal tour guide helps, Nat who I know from the pub and her friend Alan who lives in Sydney picked me up and took me on a magical mystery tour around Sydney and out to Watson Bay where you get to see the city as it's sometimes best seen; from a distance.

Another obligatory tourist attraction is Bondi Beach which is just a train then short bus ride away from the city. In a country made entirely out of beaches (sort of...) this is the most raved about beach of them all. Everyone knows Bondi, it's even got its own TV show over here, Bondi Rescue. Most weekends it'll be packed out and you'll struggle to find a piece of sand but we were there on a Tuesday and... well... it's a beach init. Just a beach. It's got water and sand and life guards and that's it. It's not the pit of hell the locals tell you it is but it's not the best beach in the world. It's just a beach and yeah, it's busy even on a weekday, the sand is covered in people and the sea is an all you can eat spectacular for sharks.

We frolicked in the ocean, got dumped by a few waves and sat on the sand, soaking up the Sydney sunshine.

Then we got over it and went to the pub.

The Blue Mountains: 28/02/08
The Blue Mountains are only about 90 minutes away from Sydney and get their name from bluish haze caused by oils evaporating from the eucalyptus trees. Can't really see it through fog and rain though and when we went it was pissing it down but me, Nat, AJ and Alan had a brilliant time anyway thanks to the company and the rum.

First stop was the Three Sisters, accessible from Katoomba. Yes, it's a rock formation, even this far into civilisation Australia can't resist throwing a rock or two into the photograph but it looked fucking wicked with the fog rolling in. You know when you're in an aeroplane and you look out of the window and you see all this cloud but you can't photograph it because it never takes properly and the flash reflects off the window and you get half the wing in anyway?

That. But without the bad in-flight movie and a complete stranger drooling on your shoulder.

The Three Sisters.... Fog Rolling In.... Fucking Beautiful
After a quick pit stop at the bottle shop to stock up on cans and comedy stubby coolers Alan drove us to the Jenolan Caves because caves are brilliant. I could look at caves all day, they're soooo pretty, I don't know how they can have walls that shiny and textured and expect people not to maul them. It was all I could do not to lick them.

We ended up checking out Lucas Cave, their biggest, with a massive tour group which meant it took longer than the supposed 90 minutes to get through but we entertained ourselves with tourist photos and by freaking the guide out because AJ couldn't keep her hands off the walls.

Top Row: Lucas Cave.... Alan, Nat, AJ And Me.... Don't Touch The Walls!
Bottom Row: Showing An Interest.... Shiny.... Broken Column
After the caves we fully intended to drive back to Sydney via Wentworth Falls but two bottle shop stops later and it became apparent we'd missed them and Alan's SatNav on his phone had no concept of No Right Turn and one way systems. We gave up on the idea of the falls because there was plenty of water falling from the sky anyway and returned to the city.

And of course the local bottle shop.

Honourable Mention
The Lindt Cafe at Martin Place has maybe about eight toasted sandwiches to choose from then two pages worth of chocolate desserts that make your teeth hurt just looking at them and would have dentists drooling over money to be made from the potential root canals. It's the kind of menu you read whilst making orgasm noises and trying to work out if you really need all of your teeth, finally deciding that molars are over rated anyway and can I have this side of the menu please? God it's amazing though, I had profiteroles and a hot chocolate which is served as a jug of steamed milk and a little pot of melted chocolate. It's so so very awesome.

I left feeling a little bit sick in a comforting way and completely unable to face anything with a sugar content for at least 24 hours.

Ish. 24 hours ish.

Give or take an hour. Or five.

*licks chops, rubs belly and eyes up the chocolate bunny*

Things To Do In Surfers Paradise That Don't Involve Surfing

2008-02-20T14:02:00.001+08:00

Just after Xmas Irma had left BrisVegas to go and watch some pretty New year fireworks in Sydney then to head to Perth. Just as I thought I was never going to see her again, a month later she was back so we made the most of our last four weeks together by doing stuff as opposed to just sitting in a backpackers drinking goon.

We'd been to Byron Bay where me and Jess had walked all the way down to the most easterly point of mainland Australia which only meant we'd have to walk back up again. I'm sorry but if they're going to pave over an area of natural beauty they might as well go the whole hog and put cable cars in. Irma didn't bother with that, she just openly mocked me when I got to the top after near death and took photos of me because I'd turned a fetching shade of red and was wondering where I could get a new pair of lungs from at this hour in regional New South Wales.

Top Row: Me And Irma At The Lighthouse.... Jess, Irma And Me At Cape Byron.... Nimbin
Bottom Row: Jess And Irma, Night Out In Byron.... Enjoying A Well Earned Ice Cream.... Choosing Her Weapon
We'd gone to Nimbin, the cannabis capital of Australia and discussed how long you'd have to live here for before succumbing to tie-dye (we'd settled on three days). I'd been before, Nimbin is wasted on me because I don't smoke but Irma loved it, she decided she wanted to live there and open her very own genuine Dutch coffee shop although I can't see immigration approving her business idea and granting that visa.

We'd rented a hotel room for four nights with our own bathroom and TV so we could get some privacy and chill out together and eat take away pizza off clean, white towels.
God my mother is going to kill me when she reads that last bit.

We'd gone bowling (*coughs*Irma won*coughs*), spent the day at the pub, generally splashed out and treated ourselves and on my last day off before Irma had to leave we drove down to Surfers Paradise in the pissing rain to spend the night there. We'd thought about going to Dreamworld but its not worth it in that kind of weather and I'd worked a close the night before so we just decided to try the Sling Shot out which is a huge contraption that shoots you up into the air at speeds they'd fine you for on the road. It's only $30 plus $20 for the DVD then once you're back down they ask you if you want to go again for $10 each.

Fuck yes!

You might want sunnies to view the following photos and video on account of the blinding whiteness of our knuckles.

It's soooo cool, especially for the price. There's also a bungee jump there for about $99 but my heart tries to escape out of my mouth just watching people do it so we gave that a miss in favour of having lunch once there was no chance of losing it and indulging in that other Surfers Paradise backpacker pastime; drinking grog.

Saying Goodbye
Since I came to Australia and started backpacking I've had to say goodbye to so many people. Sometimes it's been until we meet again, you know you'll see them in another town or maybe even another country somewhere down the track. Sometimes it's been a final goodbye, either they're leaving the country to go home or start a new adventure, or they're from the town you're in and you're leaving to carry on travelling while they stay and get on with their lives. But it doesn't matter. Goodbyes never get any easier, if anything it gets harder and harder to say goodbye to those you've become close to and saying bye to Irma for the last time was without a doubt harder than any other goodbye bar none. This time there's no changing her mind and coming back, she's off back to Holland to get a job and a place and a normal life back home.

I already miss her, she's an amazing person but I'm just glad I got to travel with her and share at least a part of my life with her.

Random Nuggets Of Information #4

2008-01-22T16:21:00.002+08:00

On account of the fact I got lots of work within a week of getting to Brisbane I haven't had time to pick the mozzy bite scabs off my legs, let alone write anything which means you get the following set of words hastily arranged to form something resembling sentences.

Gainful Employment
I landed me a job in one of Brisbane's two gay pubs, the Sportsman Hotel, where I get to sell beer to puffs whilst attempting Responsible Service Of Alcohol. It's actually illegal to get too drunk in Australian pubs, it's the job of the bar staff to keep an eye on everyone and get them to drink water if we think they're starting to have too much fun. This is all thanks to the Lawsuit Culture, if they get pissed in our pub then they fall under the bus on the way home then we get massive fines for letting them get Unduly Intoxicated. I don't like fines so I've become fascist water dyke which can't be doing anything to help the so called drought they're meant to be having here.
Other duties include delivering food to patrons at their table after sneakily relieving them of a few chips and washing up in the back in between zipping drag queens into tight frocks and offering useless advice on what wig they should wear that night. I'm also responsible for perving at the few girls we get in who range from A Bit Of Alright to Excuse Me, I Think You Dropped Your Paper Bag.

Andy, Mouse, Paul, Michael, Merlin, Chris, Anna Mae, Brettski. Some Of The People I Work With
I also had a Monday to Friday job in a warehouse taking locks out of boxes and putting them into different boxes. I lasted 8 days before they said they didn't need me anymore. I think they wanted someone to actually Do Stuff as opposed to staring mournfully at boxes and trying to put off opening them by colouring everything in in marker pen. This is fine though because I get enough hours at the pub now on account of them being desperate for staff. They'd have to be in order to employ a pierced lesbian who hadn't pulled a pint for about 5 years in the first place.

Drought? What Fucking Drought?
Call me old fashioned but droughts conjure up images of brown foliage and arid wastelands, not torrential rainfall and flash flooding. I can't remember how I dealt with rain, it's been so long since I've had to function in it and I'm still refusing to buy an umbrella dammit all because I'm in Australia and it's not meant to rain in Australia! Yes, I'm aware the dams were at less than 20% and yes, I know they needed the water but its done nothing but rain since we got here and quite frankly I'm over it not least because it relieves me of my right to be a Smug Cunt to those back home.

Jingle Bells Etc Etc
So Christmas happened again. This is my second Christmas in Australia and I still can't get my head round the Xmas In Summer thing. Despite the rain it's still been warm and humid and walking into a shopping centre wearing shorts and flip flops and seeing Christmas trees and decorations still freaks me out. It's weird. It's just not right. I had the urge to sit in a freezer with a piece of tinsel until it went away.

Note The Goon Centrepiece... Tucking In.... Goon, Madam?
Anyway, me and Irma spent it with John and his fella, Brendan, Dom, Jess and a couple of others where I proceeded to eat and drink too much and pass out.

Ah, nothing like a traditional Christmas with the Queen... Uh, I mean queens.

Today's Top Tip
If you have a passport photo taken after you've spent all day running round Brisbane in the summer during one of the worst hair days in history you'll end up with something that looks like a mugshot from Prisoner: Cell Block H stuck in your travel document for the next 10 years. Prepare to be pulled over at customs.

Saying Goodbye

2007-12-30T14:01:00.001+08:00

Have you ever had to say goodbye to someone you really don't want to resulting in the compilation of a three hour Slit Yer Wrists playlist comprising of some Evanescence, a touch of Sinead O Connor, a dash of Foreignor and the entire Missy Higgins Sound Of White album which you listen to in full in a darkened room whilst you wonder at exactly what point the world stopped revolving around you?

No?

Uh... me neither...

*shuts down Windows Media Player and retreats to the pub*

Full Circle

2007-12-01T12:09:00.000+08:00

Big Things #30 To #38

2007-11-21T16:08:00.001+08:00

There will now follow a dial up nightmare, graphic intensive post containing some of the Big Things that can be found between Cairns and Brisbane. I'm pretty sure these will be the last Big Things I see in Australia. I know I've missed a lot out as I've travelled round which upsets me enough to consider going out and finding something resembling a life.

Big Thing #30
I think this big thing in Cairns, Queensland is a swordfish.

Whatever it is, life can't be easy when your face is classed as an offensive weapon.

Big Thing #31

The Big Cassowary, Mission Beach, Queensland. These things are actually scarier when they're only 6' tall and looking at you funny.

Big Thing #32
The Golden Gumboot (that's welly to those reading in Blighty, the world's expert on waterproofs), Tully, Queensland.

"The height of the gumboot represents the amount of rainfall recorded in Tully in 1950 - 7.9 metres. An Australian Record."

Well you gotta have something to be proud of ay.

Big Thing #33

Crikey mate, you wouldn't wanna get tagged by this little beauty in Ayr, Queensland.

Big Thing #34
Behold the Big Mango, Bowen, Queensland!

Honestly now, come on. I like Big Things as much as the next guy but seriously, you're taking the piss now.

Big Thing #35
Rockhampton in Queensland, the beef capital of Australia.

In case you weren't aware of this fact when you rocked up and were welcomed by this over sized steak.

Big Thing #36

Found outside the Bundaberg rum distillery, Queensland.

I'll have this one and a straw, please mate.

Big Thing #37

Not someone you'd want to bump into after a few shandies on a Saturday night.

Big Thing #38
The Big Pineapple, Gympie, Queensland.

Its a big, pineapple shaped thing. Now if you'll excuse me I'm off to find a more constructive hobby such as Extreme Toenail Removal or Inserting Hot Needles Into Eyelids.

Obligatory East Coast Adventure - Part 6

2007-11-20T23:19:00.000+08:00

16/11/07 - Friday
I'd like to start this post with a small interactive exercise. Reach into the top drawer and remove your List Of Things Not To Bother With Ever Even If You Have All The Time In The World, Are Acually Dying Of Boredom And If You Don't Find Something To Do Soon You'll Be Reaching For The Razor Blades. Now, take a pen and write the following in large, capital letters at the top of the list: "Mystery Craters near Bundaberg."
They're some holes in the ground in someones garden and for $6 they let you walk around and marvel at the... well... mystery of the craters. Apparently no one knows how they were formed, probably due to lack of interest and the highlight of the event is the completely random fibre glass model of a cartoon T-Rex. But just in case you're one of these people that simply has to do something they've been advised not to just in case they're missing out on something, here's a photo of it to make sure you don't go squandering good drinking money on something you could recreate with play-doh in your own living room.

There. Now aren't you glad I'm here to make your mistakes so you don't have to?

Anyway, we made it down to Hervey Bay and booked into Woolshed Backpackers because they have double rooms for $23 each a night which is pretty cool considering we'd been paying about the same if not more for shared dorms and definately good because we were getting closer to Brisbane and there was still no sign of this drought I'd been promised. We were rained off the next day and spent the day watching DVDs and trying to decide which Fraser Island tour to go on once the rain subsided. Lets face it, it doesn't matter how pretty it is, an island made of sand is gonna be miserable in the wet.

18/11/07 - Sunday
Irma had mentioned renting bicycles a few times but I figured it was a Dutch thing and she could be easily distracted from the subject by windmills and clogs but today I relented and we hired some from the hostel because the weather had picked up and it'd be a nice way to see the Esplanade. We armed ourselves with a couple of sexy helmets and plenty of water but alas we forgot to pack the steel knickers and I spent the entire day wondering what evil was responsible for a mode of transport that makes you hurt in places that should never have to feel pain apart from during childbirth and even then not with the right drugs. See this is why Holland is so fucking small, it's not easy to reproduce when you've all crushed your genitals riding to work every day.

Top: Being All Dutch And Stuff.... Looking Good
Bottom: Torture Devices.... Give Me An Air Polluting Car Any Day
We got as far as the pier and rode back via the pub but its a nice enough ride despite spending the ensuing three days feeling like I'd been kicked in the cunt. They have all these exercise things all along the front like rowing machines and push up benches and of course cycling machines for the masochist at heart. At least our bikes got us somewhere.
I decided that Hervey Bay wasn't the place for me, far too energetic. We got back to the hostel and limped to reception to book our Fraser tour.

19/11/07 - Monday
Like the Whitsundays there's shit loads of choice when you go to Fraser Island. The most popular are the 2 night 3 day self drive tours but you can also get guided tours ranging from one to three days or you can take yourself and your 4WD over and explore it that way provided you can be bothered to get all the permits needed to camp or visit certain areas. Because one day was enough for us for the Whitsundays we figured one day would be enough for Fraser so we booked ourselves onto a big coach for a one day tour. We also thought if the rain didn't hold off it'd be crap to camp overnight and we couldn't really afford anything too big. I discovered that morning I'd managed to max out my credit card which meant I'd gotten through a £2000 loan plus an extra £400 on top of that. Yep, that's pounds, not dollars. Bring on the overdraft.

Fraser Island is basically a huge pile of sand that trees have managed to grow on, there are no sealed roads because you can't tarmac over sand and people frequently get bogged because someone thought it'd be a good idea to lend 4WDs to backpackers and tourists who have no idea how to use one. White settlers were interested in it for logging and promptly took over it, now its totally protected and you need a permit to wipe your arse. It's gorgeous though, you can see why they restrict access.

The Rainforest
Oh come on, I'd just spent three weeks in Cairns and Cape Tribulation, I've kinda run out of things to say about trees. Yes, they're lovely and green and pretty and would make a nice coffee table.

Eli Creek, Coloured Sands And The Maheno Shipwreck
We hit the main beach that runs down one side of the island and also doubles as the main highway, you have to be careful of tides though or you risk getting stranded. As the driver tore up the sand, swerving to avoid the salt water lapping up the shore, on and island made almost entirely of sand he managed to find a rock and hit it thus putting the bus out of action for 90 minutes. Fortunately he did this right near Eli Creek. Well there are worse places to be stuck I guess.

Top: Crippled Bus.... Eli Creek.... Coloured Sands
Bottom: Maheno Shipwreck.... Me And Irma At The Wreck.... The Stunning Lake McKenzie
All the water on Fraser island is fresh water right up until it hits the ocean. It's crystal clear and good enough to drink if you can put the image of hundreds of people a day swimming in it and walking through it while smothered in suncream and insect repellant out of your head. Eli Creek is really nice, we spent our time there just wandering up and down it and wondering when they'd get the bus fixed. eventually they did and we were on our way to look at some sand that was pretty colours and a shipwreck.

This is where it started feeling rushed. Because we'd lost so much time it was literally a case of jump out of the bus, take a photo and jump back on again before we drove on to Lake McKenzie, one of the more famous landmarks on the island.

Lake McKenzie
The driver had managed to arrange a later ferry so we could still fit the lake in but we still only had half an hour there which I was gutted about because this was what I wanted to see the most with its white sands and fresh, blue water with no stingers or stonefish or sharks or anything else that might take a fancy to your limbs. Its awesome here, if you get a chance to visit you totally need longer than 30 minutes to frolic in the water and chill on the beach.

And I don't care what you say, Irma, I totally won that dunking competition. That's 2-1 to me. Yeah it is. Ha.

Anyway, one day isn't enough here. Hopefully at some point I'll be able to come back and see it properly.

20/11/07 - Tuesday
Due to lack of funds we just mad dashed to Brisbane today and arrived early afternoon. All we missed out on was Noosa (another same as before seaside town) and Australia Zoo and that's where I'll finish this post because it's already reached mammoth proportions and I'm sure most of you that have even got this far have things you need to do like eat or shave the hair that's grown as you've waded through all these words. If you're bored enough to start considering a quick visit to the Mystery Craters why not check out some photos instead? Click the camera icon at the bottom of this post.

Obligatory East Coast Adventure - Part 5

2007-11-15T23:40:00.000+08:00

14/11/07 - Wednesday
And so it was down a bit more to get to Bundaberg, a popular town with backpackers on account of the fact its on the East Coast, has plenty of seasonal work which counts towards your second visa and is the home of Bundaberg Rum, or Bundy as it's affectionately known by drunk people who can't manage too many syllables. You don't go to Bundaberg without going on the Rum Distillery Tour which you can book at the Visitor Centre, we opted for the Silver tour which gets you an hours guided walk around the distillery from sugar to bottling and a free drink at the end. It's interesting and worth a look, even if its just to say you've done it and so you can buy Bundy Rum from the place itself. And yes, I had the lower alcohol Socially Responsible option at the end on account of having to navigate the Falcon back through the town so we could find accommodation for the night. We treated ourselves to a cube of rum and cola cans though, I didn't have to drive all night.

Me And Irma Behind The Bundaberg Bar.... I'll Have This One And A Straw, Please.... The Home Of Bundaberg Rum
If Bundaberg is popular with backpackers, why are the backpacker hostels here so evil?? Most of them will find you work as the racks of dirty boots outside the door indicated but every single one we looked at had a strict No Alcohol policy. What the hell kind of sadist sends you out to work in the fields all day then doesn't let you kick back with a mug of goon in the evening? Some of them even had signs up such as "Don't Go To Work, Lose Your Job. Lose Your Job, Lose Your Bed." They all had notice boards full of rules and curfew notices. I had images of gruel for breakfast and barefooted youths singing in ear shatteringly high voices about food, glorious food.

Then there's Cellblock. Whereas the other hostels are like being in prison, Cellblock is a prison, or it was anyway until they converted it. It's expensive but it seems much less miserable and there's a bar which means you still can't bring your own grog but at least you can drink. They still have the walls lined with rules, threats of eviction for not showing up for work and there were at least 5 different notices in the kitchen about washing up including full instructions reminding you to scrape excess food off the plate, wash the dishes in hot water with soap, rinse them, dry them and put them away followed by a patronising "Well Done" and a smiley face. We decided to camp again tonight. Apart from not being in the mood to be treated like 4 year olds we had a cube of rum with our names on it and it'd be rude not to relieve it of a few cans at least.

Irma And The Rum.... Love Dominos.... All You Need Is Rum, Pizza, A Hot Girl And A One Man Tent
Even camping here is miserable, we got pissed on by the weather and sandflies, it ended up being the two of us huddled together in my one man tent for the night hacking at the urine stains left on our flesh by the sandflies. Evil little fuckers they are, I mean, if you wanna bite me then yeah, it's annoying but at least theres a point, everything needs food. But don't piss on me you filthy buggers! Rah!

Rant over.

Aaaanyway, now I've gotten that off my chest, lets move on to happier things such as turtles and beaches and stuff.

15/11/07 - Thursday
Bundaberg is also home to Mon Repos which is where Loggerhead Turtles come to nest when in season. It just so happened to be right at the start of the season so we booked ourselves some tickets at the Visitor Info centre and rocked up to look at a big turtle squeezing some eggs out of its minge. The things we pay to see. We were told to get down there before 7pm so we did and got savaged my mozzies, I swear everything in Bundaberg is out to get me. It was also bloody freezing and they told us that we might we here for hours before a turtle rocked up, that's even if we saw one, the welts left by the bloodsuckers and the potential hypothermia could all be in vain.

I think we were there for 10 minutes before they rushed in, a turtle had started crawling up the beach early tonight, we were herded to where she was and were grouped behind her. She couldn't hear us, our frequency is different to theirs and she couldn't see us so she began digging her little hole for her eggs, completely oblivious to the hoard of people stood gaping at her arse. Once she started laying that was it, she was committed. We were allowed to move around as the team measured her, checked for tags and wrote down stats then we were given a short window where we could take photos, not too many though, as the guy pointed out, one photo of a nesting turtle is pretty much the same as another.

And to be honest that would have been fine for us. We were cold and itchy and just wanted to head back and buy fish and chips from the van out the front but they wouldn't let us despite a subtle attempt to slink off into the dark, we were stuck here until she'd finished laying and gone back to the water. That's the last time I pay for nature, I'll stick to David Attenbrough shows from now on, at least you can watch stuff breed from the comfort of a warm room with a pizza and a drink.

Ok, obviously Bundaberg didn't set my world on fire, mainly because of the weather and accommodation I think but its definitely worth a look. The rum tour is cool and the turtle thing really is interesting, don't miss out on it just because I'm a miserable, cynical bitch without insect repellent.

Obligatory East Coast Adventure - Part 4

2007-11-13T21:33:00.000+08:00

09/11/07 - Friday
Stiiiiill pissing it down so we gave the national park a miss this time because trees and soil are only fun in the sunshine and carried on towards Rockhampton and the Olsen Capricorn Caves so called because a bloke called Olsen discovered them and they're right near the Tropic Of Capricorn. Just in case you hadn't guessed. We both like caves so we rocked up, paid our cash and waited for the 1 hour tour.

These caves are above ground, you can go on all kinds of exciting tours including ones for the more experienced caver which involve squeezing yourself through holes that were clearly not designed for humans to fit through. These kind of tours aren't for us, we preferred to use the big hole conveniently placed at the entrance which was still a pretty precarious effort, it's times like these I really wish I'd renewed my medical insurance.

Cave Stuff.... Warning: Do Not Eat Pies And Attempt To Fit Down This Hole.... More Cave Stuff
Anyway, after the general oohing and ahhing that accompanies looking at pretty things we carried onto Rocky itself, the beef capital of Australia as the various statues of cattle not to mention the over sized and slightly terrifying bovine that welcomes you to the town keep reminding you. We checked into the YHA Backpackers and decided to spend a couple of nights here just doing nothing. Nothing at all. Not a thing. Nada. We spent the next day chilling out in the lounge, watching DVDs and generally being drooling couch potatoes because sometimes its just nice to stare blankly at a screen of moving pictures with an overly dramatic soundtrack.

Private Joke Moment: Tiiiiiime, is on my side. Yes it is...

11/11/07 - Sunday and 12/11/07 - Monday
Beef consumption in Rockhampton is compulsory so we munched on a steak at the Great Western before driving down to the much raved about Town Of 1770 and Agnes Waters. We arrived on Sunday and spent the entire Monday trying to work out what people love so much about this place, we drove around, we went to the beach, we checked into the right backpackers (Cool Bananas) and consumed alcohol. Maybe you just need money to enjoy a place like this but the thing is, as pretty as each of these little East Coast towns are, each one is just more of the same. Once you've seen one you've seen them all.

Then I heard people talking about the Scooter Roo tours, they put you on a Twist And Go chopper and take you around town. Irma doesn't have a drivers license, rumour had it they never check but she didn't want to risk it. It took Tooheys Extra Dry and letting her win at Yammit (a little known, very simple and highly addictive card game with absolutely no skill involved that I learnt in Echuca) to convince her to stay another night.

13/11/07 - Tuesday
Ok so the ScooterRoo tour didn't start until the afternoon so I duly dragged myself out of bed for the morning $14 group surf lesson, again without Irma because drowning isn't her idea of fun. As you travel from north to south, Agnes Waters is the first place with anything resembling surf, its out of the Tropics as well so despite the stinger warning signs there really isn't anything in the water dangerous enough to worry about. That was until I got in brandishing a large piece of fibreglass anyway, I can't say I conducted myself with grace and style as I flapped about in the water atop my board trying to get on a wave.

It's about a 3 hour lesson and there's quite a large group of you. They put you in pairs, give you a board between you and take you down to the beach where they line you up in the sand and proceed to talk at you. And talk and talk and talk. I'm sure what he was saying was integral to the next 2 hours of my life but it's hard to concentrate while you're sat, slowly baking in the heat, piling sand up in front of you in different shapes in an effort to alleviate the boredom which was reminiscent of double physics lessons. Then no sooner had you stopped thinking about surfing and started thinking about a pint you were up and into the water for your first 15 minutes. It would be you then your partner then you and so on until the 2 hours was up.

Yeah, That's Me On A Wave In The Bottom Right Photo. On A Wave, Not On The Sand. Not Me. Nope. Definitely Surfing In That There Photo.
15 minutes a time is plenty, its exhausting work dragging yourself and the board out, paddling like a crazy lady and trying to get on a wave. While you're in the water you find yourself wondering at what point they made 15 minutes longer than it was yesterday. Its loads of fun though but I'm not a surfer, I spent most of the time with my arse in the air and my face in the sand, it's gonna take weeks to get the salt out of my sinuses and what was left of my dignity is probably washed up on some deserted beach in Brazil by now. Well I wasn't like I was using it anyway.

No sooner had I gotten home and scraped the sand out of places sand has no right being it was into the ScooterRoo troopy to be taken to the array of bikes they foolishly lend to backpackers and tourists so we could see what 1770 was all about. They were right about the licences, they didn't check. In fact the boss wandered in and asked if anyone had ever ridden a geared bike, not Does Anyone Have a Geared Bike Licence, merely had they ever ridden one. I've got a full motorcycle licence (which, again, they didn't check) so I put my hand up for a 250cc instead of a hairdryer with flames painted up the side and we set off into the countryside to look at some kangaroos and trees and grass and stuff.

Twist N Go Choppers.... ScooterRoo!.... Sunset Over The Town Of 1770
It's a lovely ride though and it was awesome to get back on a proper bike after 18 months and one thing I've never done on a motorcycle before is ridden along a sea front as the sun was about to set. It was beautiful. We stopped at the pub to get some potato wedges and settled down on some rocks to watch the sun go down over the Town Of 1770 whilst fending off seagulls who had no concept of backpackers and their attachment to their food. You're out on the road for a good while, it's definitely worth the money and the guy who leads the convoy is a top bloke.

So I just want to thank Irma for indulging me on this one, she really didn't want to stay another night but she did so I could go and play in the sea and on the bikes, it was a brilliant day despite still having a small portion of the ocean sloshing about in my cranium and possibly half of Agnes Waters beach in my crack.

Obligatory East Coast Adventure - Part 3

2007-11-08T19:22:00.000+08:00

05/11/07 - Monday
Having thankfully returned to an intact vehicle as opposed to a smouldering patch of concrete we left Townsville and headed south, our next destination being Airlie Beach which is big and shiny and expensive. Its totally buzzing if you have the cash to drink but we didn't. We met up with a mate of mine, Brendan who I know from Alice to Adelaide and also Broome and had a few drinks with him then just spent the next day chilling and deciding which Whitsundays tour to book.

07/11/07 - Wednesday
About a million* (* Figure may be slightly exaggerated for effect) boats leave for the Whitsundays every day ranging from one day tours to three day Sleep On The Boat Party Adventures which makes choosing one not quite as easy as you'd hope. After sifting through an entire rainforest worth of brightly coloured, shiny leaflets we decided on a day tour because Irma doesn't deal well with large bodies of water and it absolutely was not a party boat because me plus alcohol multiplied by ocean equals feeding the fish in the grossest possible way. We settled for Whitsunday Xpress on account of the promise of a BBQ and a cheese platter.

After a cruise out to the islands, the first stop was a bush walk on Whitsunday Island itself, the largest of the islands, up to a lookout for Hill Inlet to look at the pretty patterns the tide makes in the sand.

Bush walk. They make it sound so feral. Its not. If somebody suggests a bush walk in the Northern Territory or Western Australia you'd want to pack a bag, take plenty of water, don the sturdy boots and notify the local authorities of your estimated day of arrival. On the east coast a pair of flip flops will suffice as you make your way up the well used track, camera in one hand and make up bag in the other to ensure you look pretty for the photos. Although the destination in this case is worth a three day hike into the wilderness, its fucking beautiful, apparently the patterns are different every time the tide changes and if you look down to the left from the lookout platform you can make out about a hundred stingrays, a veritable Steve Irwin nightmare. Its awesome.

Hill Inlet, Whitsunday Island
After we'd all oohed and ahhed and been herded round the platform like the tourists we were it was back to the boat and around the corner to Whitehaven Beach where we'd be having lunch. After we'd moored with the plethora of other tour boats, we were given the option to swim to shore from the boat this time instead of going over in the dingy, it wasn't too far.

Ahh, swimming in the tropics during stinger season, if you yearn for the days when it was acceptable to wear lycra, when cycling shorts were worn by everyone whether they owned a bicycle or not, when you wouldn't be openly mocked for walking down the street wearing clothes that look like they were painted on whilst you admired your wet perm in car windows, you'd love it. The only safe way to get in the water is to wear a stinger suit, an all over lycra body suit that includes a hood, mittens and straps that go under your feet reminiscent of the days of ski pants. Its a retro wet dream.

Whitehaven Beach is gorgeous with its soft, white sands and crystal, blue water, the only other time I've seen a beach so postcard perfect was at Lucky Bay in the Cape Le Grand National Park near Esperance and there's no stingers there. Just hypothermia and frost bite. Don't ever expect to get Whitehaven to yourself though, it's just never going to happen.

Swimming In Stinger Season.... Smurf.... Whitehaven Beach; White, White Sands And Blue, Blue Sea
So we had the promised BBQ on the beach and stuffed our faces with meat products before jumping back on the boat (in the dingy this time) and headed to Mantaray Bay for some snorkelling around the coral there. I was back in my lycra and into the ocean and by the time I got back to the boat Irma had already got in, snorkelled, got out and dried thus depriving me of any chance of pointing and laughing at her in a full stinger suit. Damnit. That was going to be the highlight of my trip an all.

We reckoned a day trip was enough for the Whitsundays, we saw everything we wanted to and had an awesome day. If you're not on a tight budget like we were then maybe a two night effort would be a laugh but for the lower price a day trip was perfect for us.

And so it was back to the mainland and back to our overpriced room at Koalas where we spent the evening drinking goon with Brendan then got an early night.

Well when you're paying $27 per night each you'll be wanting to get your moneys worth init.

08/11/07 - Thursday
We drove down to Mackay and stopped off at the visitor centre to get information off a jolly old bloke who shouldn't be allowed anywhere near members of the general public. After he'd finished staring at my tits and making us cringe with his sexual innuendos followed by the line, "You couldn't say that sort of thing in my day!" we beat a hasty retreat clutching stacks of brochures to leave all over the floor of my car. There was a national park nearby we wanted to see but the weather was a bit nasty so we decided to stay the night in Mackay and see how it was the next day.

There are two hostels that we know of here, the one that looked like fun was full and the other one which only had one bed left anyway banned alcohol, parties and television after midnight. As if spending the night in Mackay wasn't bad enough! By this time we were both feeling pretty crap after a week of bad diet, my gums had started bleeding a bit as well so I decided I probably had scurvy and we both felt generally run down. We decided to camp for the night and use the money we saved to buy Proper Food. We ended up at the bowling club up the road from the site which did $10 meals, I think we were the only people in the place that didn't have to take their teeth out to clean them.

Anyway, the general consensus on this one was that Mackay sucks balls. Geriatric ones at that.

Obligatory East Coast Adventure - Part 2

2007-11-04T18:00:00.000+08:00

01/11/07 - Thursday
So today was mine and Irma's first day on the road together, up until now we'd only hung out at Toddy's in Alice or our respective hostels in Cairns. Apart from that brief period I travelled with Emma I hadn't travelled with someone who was a bit more than a mate before. So this could be interesting.

Especially as neither of us can read maps.

We headed to Townsville via some pretty waterfalls, one of them being Wallaman Falls, the longest single drop waterfall in the Southern Hemisphere. Well you'd think they'd put it a bit bloody closer then wouldn't you instead of at the top of a big winding road up a mountain, they don't half like to make you work for your pretty things in Australia. Its the kind of distance where you expect someone to have put the kettle on and set up a camp bed for you for the night but not this time, we did the obligatory ooh ahh thing and drove back down.

Me And Irma At Some Random Falls.... Wallaman Falls; Really Really Long (268m).... Pretty Views
And then it was onto our destination for the night. We rocked up just before 5pm and began the tedious task of trying to find somewhere to live. We pulled over and I called Globetrotters Backpackers to see if they had beds. They did and the following conversation ensued:

Bloke: Ok so when will you be here?
Me: Well we're in Townsville now so it's just a case of finding Palmer Street.
Bloke:Where are you now?
Me: On Walker Street. I'm... erm...

*looks around and sees this:*

Me: I'm looking at a big water tank thing on a hill with a big green frog on it.

Pause.

Bloke: Have you taken something??

Ahh, first impressions. I ended up taking that photo to prove to the bloke that I wasn't clinically insane, at least not on a discernible level. You should have seen his face when he first saw me and I tried to explain that there was a big green frog as well as some Nemo fish and a blue butterfly. He asked me if there were any little green spacemen as well.

Funny cunt.

02/11/07 - Friday
Ok so Townsville. Its very nice but at the end of the day there's fuck all to do but gaze wistfully over at Magentic Island then proceed to book a trip there. It's also a Proper Town, more so than Cairns. Cairns is still very touristy, you can get away with lounging around the lagoon in the middle of town in your swimwear and you can still wander the streets in bare feet and a silly hat clutching your souvenir boomerang and toy koala. Townsville makes you want to buy hair gel and do laundry.

03/11/07 - Saturday
At the time we were here, X Base were doing a deal where you give them $79 and it'll get you a return ferry to Magnetic Island plus 2 nights in the hostel, one cooked breakfast and an hours kayaking. I've never been a fan of Base hostels, they're all quite big and impersonal but this one kind of redeems itself, its slap bang on the beach and... erm... that's it really. You still can't take your own grog because they have a bar but hey, have a look at why you wouldn't care for a couple of nights.

The View From Our Room.... Base Backpackers As Seen From The Ocean.... View From The Hostel
Pretty isn't it? After we'd attempted to go sea kayaking, given up and just drifted for a bit we spent the first day just chilling and deciding what to do the next day and we had our first battle; Lesbian Beach Wrestling. Yeah I won, I kicked her Dutch arse into the sand. Hell yeah.

*does a little dance*

And I'll continue to remind her of this victory every time she wins me in a fight ever.

04/11/07 - Sunday
There are a few ways to get around Magnetic Island. You can *shudders* bus it, you can rent a scooter and spend the day looking like a big puff or you can rent a Moke and spend the day being laughed at because you're used to driving an automatic now and not only do you have to remember to change gear because the car won't do it for you, 3rd gear keeps evading you. Mokes are so uncool they're fucking cool. I'd never heard of them until Alice Springs when Wendy who runs Toddy's went on a Moke convoy to Uluru and ever since then I'd wanted a go in one. They're really cheap to rent an all, we picked one up from Magnetic Moke for about $69 for 24 hours including 60 free kilometres which is enough to get you around. It's Magnetic Island for fucks sake, you can stand on one side and spit to the other. Don't, though. That'd be disgusting.

We'd already decided that we wanted to rent jetskis which is something you can do up at Horseshoe Bay which, from what I can gather, passes as the bustling hub of the island. They're not overly cheap to rent but you rent the jetski, its not per person and you can put two people on one. But then you wouldn't be able to race and where's the fun in that?

We opted for one each for half an hour and proceeded to tear up the ocean and you know what? You really can't tip them. I know, I tried. You can get up to 50mph on them (I think that's about 80kph?) but you're not allowed to get too close to each other. Me and Irma raced anyway and maybe she won most races, y'know, it's hard to tell an stuff what with us being so far away from each other and not really knowing where the finish line was and stuff and anyway I kicked her arse on the beach ok? Yeah. Ha.

Yeah That's My Moke.... Jetskiing.... Koala In The Wild
After the jetskiing we bumped into some people we'd met at Mission Beach and went on one of the island's koala spotting walks. I was very nearly over koalas but I'd not seen them in the wild yet so we parked the Moke next to a million others at Forts Walk and wandered up to check out the furry little critters. We spotted loads of them, some of them even moved thus proving that koalas are real and not some great Australian hoax designed to lure tourists into the country.

It was around this time I remembered I'd left two gas bottles in my car in direct sunlight for three days. Nothing ends a holiday like thinking you might have blown your car up.

Obligatory East Coast Adventure - Part 1

2007-10-31T16:07:00.000+08:00

Cape Trib: 26/10/07
To Brisbane: 20/11/07

It is compulsory whilst backpacking Australia to Do The East Coast or they'll revoke your backpacker card and you won't be able to bulk buy goon and noodles. Everyone does this coast, a lot of people only do this coast which is a damn shame because Western Australia is the best place in the world. I have to admit, I wasn't overly enthusiastic about it, I wanted to do it though because I knew I'd regret it if I didn't and anyway, I needed to get to a city where I could get work so I might as well do it in style so I duly borrowed £2000 (yep, that's pounds not dollars, Exchange Rate fans) off Mum and Dad. On account of the fact I'd rather chew my own fingers off than advertise for travel companions again and I hadn't met anyone who was leaving at the same time as me, I headed back up to Cape Tribulation all on my lonesome.

26/10/07 - Friday
Today I was back out on the reef without several litres of goon sloshing around my veins and after a proper nights sleep. Odyssey H2O wasn't going out so I ended up on Rum Runner IX which is a bit slower and looks better although I couldn't help wondering what happened to the other eight. The conditions were loads calmer and the weather was awesome as well which helped, as did dosing myself up on seasick pills so I managed to spend the entire trip vertical as opposed to horizontal or bent over the side. Yay me.

It was an incredible day. For a start it was only me doing an intro dive so it was just me and the instructor floating around the reef looking at pretty things, the first time we were down for nearly an hour. The Mackay Reef itself is indescribable, after lunch we moved a bit so we could snorkel something called The Wall which is literally an 18 metre wall of coral and because visibility was about 25 metres that day we saw everything.

Top Row: My First Dive Ever.... Giant Clam. Heh, She Said Clam.... Stingray
Bottom Row: Reef Shark.... Why Yes Actually, That Is The Great Barrier Reef.... Floating Around
When I went back down for a second intro dive, Fabien grabbed my arm and pulled me down to a cave where he'd found a sleeping reef shark then proceeded to wake it up. Now normally I'd be against waking something up with that many pointy teeth, I know how evil I can be when I'm woken up but I was still in tourist mode which meant all common sense had been left in my backpack at PK's Jungle Village so we duly pissed it off further by following it around the reef and staring at it while it tried to get back to sleep in another cave.

Its no bloody wonder sharks bite people sometimes.

30/10/07 - Tuesday
I spent a couple of nights up in Cape Trib at PK's because they let you work for 4 hours a day and in return you get three meals a day that don't come out of a packet with "Noodles" written on it and a bed for the night. I could easily stay there for a long long time if it wasn't so fucking humid, I just can't get used to being damp all the time, I need to see a point in showering and as scummy as I can be sometimes not even I consider mouldy clothes to be an acceptable fashion statement so I headed back south, spent a night in Port Douglas to visit my mate Curly (who I know from the MCG in Broome) then drove to Mission Beach which is apparently the place in Australia to throw yourself out of a perfectly good plane with a man strapped to your back.

I checked into Scotty's backpackers and idly picked up a skydiving leaflet. Reception were on me instantly telling me all about prices, heights, discounts and roughly 20 seconds later I was stood there, credit card in hand, booked onto a 14000ft jump at 4:30pm. It was now 12:30pm. I went to my room to spend the ensuing 4 hours panicking and wondering if I should call my family to let them know my mortal remains would be available for viewing at various locations around Mission Beach.

Everyone staying at Scotty's has either thrown themselves out of a plane or is about to, there's always someone watching their jump DVD on the TVs and I didn't meet a single person who didn't love it which calmed me down so by the time I was on the plane I was loving it. I thought I'd shit myself when they sat me on the edge but I didn't and its not like you have any choice in the matter, you have a man attached to you who's intent on jumping out of that plane and you're going with him.

That split second when you go over the edge and see the ground coming towards you is unsurpassed by anything you will ever experience. I don't think I'm able to put it into words but I'll try.

*clears throat*

WHEEEEEAAGGGGGGHHHHHHOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHWHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAFUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKYEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!

Oh fuck it, I've never had a brilliant grasp of the English language, I'm from Stockport for fucks sake. Have a video instead.

Since when you get to Mission Beach you watch a million skydive videos you're very aware of the camera during your 60 second free fall, terminal velocity doesn't make an attractive girl what with bingo wings that you could take a small country out with. You'll notice the grimace like grin, designed to tighten the flesh on your face thus ensuring you don't knock the guy out in charge of pulling the parachute cord and thus keeping you intact with your flappy jowls.

Mission Beach is an amazing drop zone, on one side you have the rainforest and on the other you have the ocean. After the cord had been pulled and the parachute was open (and watching the DVD back, I'm glad I didn't realise how long it took for the 'chute to spread out and slow us down!) John, the only man to ever strap me up, said, "So, this is the view from my office window." And what a fucking beautiful view. My habit of putting myself in high places because I think it might be pretty at the top is well documented but this tops everything I've ever seen in Australia, I was the second person out of the plane and the last to land on the beach, I had an amazing float down to the ground, just taking in the views and enjoying being obscenely high up without a large metal tube with wings. If I had money this could get addictive.

That night I chilled at the hostel with a couple of girls from Wigan, Alison and Nat. They weren't in Oz for long, just a 3 week holiday doing the East Coast. I introduced them to the joy that is goon thus relieving Nat of unnecessary braincells and some stomach lining.

31/10/07 - Wednesday
An essential part of recovering from a goon hangover is lying on the floor and groaning, this is helped if you actually have someone to groan at so it was a good job Irma rocked up to join me on the Obligatory East Coast Adventure. We spent the day doing the only other thing you can do in Mission Beach apart from skydive; Go to the beach and watch skydivers.

I vowed for the 436th time to never drink again.

Being A Tourist - Part 6

2007-10-24T22:06:00.000+08:00

Wednesday; 17/10/07 - Wednesday; 24/10/07
Today was our last day in Cape Tribulation, we headed out on a 4WD tour to Bloomfield Falls at an Aboriginal settlement where a lass called Kathleen Walker took us on a bush walk and told us all kinds of things about bush tucker, bush medicine and her culture. In all the months I've been in Australia, all the time I spent in the north and centre, I've never heard about Aboriginal culture from an actual Aborigine. Its always been from white fella, someone like Glen who took us on our Kimberley tour. Its actually well interesting, I mean, I always thought it was but I've been mostly exposed to the other side of it, the aftermath of having a so called civilised race sweep into your country, take your land, kidnap or murder your kin and introduce disease, poor quality food, drugs and grog into your communities. I've only really seen the fucked up people wandering the streets trying to blag smokes, money and booze off you and I've only seen the communities that are strewn with empty butane cans, cars on bricks and dog shit. She told us about how they're losing their own language, how her own grand kids can't speak their own tongue, only English and how when they're sat round the fire telling stories the kids ask them to speak English so they can understand instead of learning the Aboriginal language they should have grown up with.

Ok, I just read that back. I shouldn't be allowed to drink goon while I write. But what I'm trying to say is that its a culture that really shouldn't be allowed to die.

Kathleen Walker At Bloomfield Falls.... Me And Dad Jungle Surfing.... Mossman Gorge
In the afternoon, me and Dad went Jungle Surfing. Most activities in the rainforest seem to involve looking at the tops of trees, its possibly best to avoid Cape Tribulation if you have issues with heights. I seem to be getting better, when I first started putting myself in high places I was terrified, when me and Kliff did the Otways Skywalk my hands never left the railings and the joints in my fingers hurt for ages but I'm getting used to it now.

Which is good because Jungle Surfing is basically being attached to a zip line and being hurled through the trees about 19 metres above the ground. The first line is slow. Then they send you fast. Then the bastards turn you upside down and take photos.

Shit its fun though.

Then it was back over the river to Mossman where we stayed the night so we could head to Mossman Gorge the next day before the buses showed up.

The rest of the week was just spent doing different things here and there including Hartley's Crocodile Farm because I'll never get bored of croc shows. The law of averages states, the more I go and see the more chance that someone will end up with one less limb than they came with. Not that I want to see anyone get torn to pieces, I just think it'd make a different and fun photo to put on Flickr.

We also checked out the Cairns Night Zoo where for $89 each you get beer, a BBQ and a night tour of the zoo followed by kangaroo feeding, singing and dancing. You only get about an hour for the food and beer, fortunately we're English and thus trained in the art of drinking as much as possible in a short space of time.

Farmed For Their Skins And Meat; I Love Croc Meat.... Crocodile Show.... Dad With His Barra
On one of the days me and Dad went fishing for barramundi at a lake that was very well stocked. I caught a couple but threw them back, Dad caught one and we killed it for our dinner. I say we killed it, I had to kill it because Dad wanted to throw it back so I cut its throat before he did anything of the sort. I wish I'd caught more though, I know they're only meant to have 3 second memories but I'm sure they got wise to the fact I was putting hooks in their food.

Anyway, Mum and Dad left early on the 25th and flew home to freezing temperatures and rain. Ok, so maybe it rains alot in Far North Queensland but hey, I was heading south to Brisbane and a nice, long drought.

It was wicked to see them again an all. Its hard being on the other side of the world sometimes but at least there's always Qantas.

PS: Actually Dad, you do look a little bit like Tony Blair in this photo... Hahaha ;)

Being A Tourist - Part 5

2007-10-16T22:02:00.000+08:00

Sunday; 14/10/07
One of the least sensible things you can do is look up a good mate who you haven't seen for months the night before you're due to go out on a boat but that's what I did. I'd heard Raz was working at PK's Jungle Village so I found him and told him I'd be back a bit later for a few drinks then me, Mum and Dad headed off to do some more horse riding.

Ok, so yeah, horse riding is fun and I wasn't quite as worried as I was last time until they said the C word. No, not that one, the other one. Canter. As in faster than a trot. As in, hold on, close your eyes and hope for the best.

Ohhh-kayyyy then, and here's me with expired medical insurance. Everyone else looked every inch the professional as I bounced around the saddle sustaining extensive bruising to my posterior and indeed my dignity although we're getting to be quite the experts now. Maybe tomorrow I'd buy a 10 gallon hat and go lasso me some bulls.

Horse Riding On Cape Tribulation Beach.... Mum, Dad And Me.... The Raz Meister
And here's where I made the mistake of going back to PK's, as soon as I rocked up I was handed a jug of snake bite. For those of you who don't know, snake bite is half cider half lager usually with a dash of red cordial. Some pubs in Britain refuse to serve it because it gets you very drunk very quickly and can make some people violent. So that was a good idea then.

But it was a wicked night, it was awesome to see Raz, one of my favourite people in the world and I randomly bumped into Irma and Dorien again because they were up for a night to check out Cape Trib. I was picked up at midnight which in theory would have given me plenty of sleep to recover if I hadn't pumped my body full of some of the worst alcohol known to man including something called a Flaming Looney which is a shot that you set on fire. I'm sorry but drunk people plus fire can only lead to third degree burns. I was lucky I made it back to Cape Trib Beach House in one piece.

Monday; 15/10/07
Oh my god I hurt in the way only goon makes you hurt which wasn't going to help the fact I get ill at sea anyway. It was the kind of hurt that only copious amounts of tea, bacon, eggs and lying on the floor moaning can fix but no, I had to get on Odyssey H2O which would take us out to the Great Barrier Reef for a day of snorkeling and an intro scuba dive. During the 45 minute ride out to the Mackay Reef I emptied the sparse contents of my stomach into the ocean along with several other people. It was a little bit choppy which made things worse so I took up residence at the back of the boat where I alternated between retching over the side and lying in the corner feeling very sorry for myself. Once we'd moored at the reef it didn't go away, the only relief was getting in the water for a snorkel which was pretty fucking awesome, not a bad way to relieve nausea.

Dad Off For His Intro Dive.... Poorly.... Heading Back
The reef is awesome beyond words, its just a shame they didn't let me do an intro dive because I was so ill. Something about being dehydrated and losing too many nutrients or something, I wouldn't mind but I probably didn't have any nutrients to begin with, I've been functioning perfectly well without nutrients for the last 17 months thank you very much. Ah well, I'd go out again when I hadn't consumed the majority of the contents of a goon bag.

By the time we got back to the mainland I just wanted the world to stop moving, I fully understood the concept of falling to your knees and gathering handfuls of sand and kissing it, overjoyed at finally reaching shore. I resisted in favour of going home for a nice sleep.

Fuck I must be getting old.

Tuesday; 16/10/07
Tuesday was a designated rest day. A day to chill out, maybe sit on the beach, just generally relax.

Relax? What is this Relax of which you speak? Instead, we drove down to the Daintree River for a cruise on the River Train which is the only one of its kind in the world. There are no life jackets on board because they don't need them, every one of the carriages is a life boat and the River Train has been certified unsinkable. Just like the Titanic. Although the River Train has the advantage of a distinct lack of icebergs in the Daintree River and to be honest, a life jacket in a croc infested river isn't really gonna do you the world of good now is it.

The River Train.... Aerial Walk At The Daintree Experience.... On Top Of The Rainforest

It's a nice enough cruise, we only saw one tiny croc on a log but it was cool. Once we were back on land we drove up to the Daintree Discovery Centre, it was a random stop because we thought they might have tea. They did. And cake. And all kinds of exciting stuff for you to look at such as rainforest and things to do such as an aerial rainforest walk. Who'd have thunk it, right here in the rainforest.

Obviously we still weren't over trees so we had a wander round the walkway to the top which is a measly 23 metres. I think Valley Of The Giants is 40 metres and Otways Skywalk is about 47 metres but these places don't have all kinds of plants with needles and barbs that want to stick in you and cause you pain such as the Wait-A-While, so called because if it catches your clothes or flesh you just have to wait a while for someone to come and rescue you. For once I wasn't the spikiest thing in the area and I was becoming less worried about the elusive FNQ Funnel Web and more worried about being attacked by foliage.

We didn't see any cassowaries here though, the rare, endangered and horribly vicious bird which inhabits the Daintree but we'd seen one a few days previous right outside our cabin at Cape Trib Beach House. Here's me demonstrating the correct way to act when confronted by one of these dangerous birds.

You're meant to make yourself as big as possible and back away slowly whilst bystanders take your photo and mock you. The warning posters tell you to never take your eyes off the bird and if it begins to get aggressive to hold something out in front of you such as a bag or a jumper.

A jumper. In the fucking rainforest.

Although to be honest if I was confronted by one of these things I'd probably just run screaming like the bitch that I am, never mind that it'd outrun me and tear me from limb to limb. Its like telling you to stand very very still and not move whilst an Inland Taipan slithers over your feet, clearly you'd kick it and run.

And that is reason number 26 why I should never try and go feral in the bush.

Being A Tourist - Part 4

2007-10-13T22:00:00.000+08:00

Thursday; 11/10/07
Today we were heading west a wee bit, about 250km out of Cairns to the Undara Lava Tubes. I'd done this drive on the way into Cairns, its a harsh one with the roads being about as wide as a road train and yes, its a road train route. It requires masses of concentration for the driver and it can get dull for passengers, especially those that aren't used to travelling long distances over land. 250km isn't a long way for me anymore, I did a 500km round trip in a day once to look at a Big Ram but it really got to Mum I think so we abandoned an idea we'd have to drive 500km to Airlie Beach to look at the Whitsunday Islands.

We stopped at Innot Hot Springs on the way for a cup of tea because we're the typical English types that will drink tea in any weather regardless of the heat. Now here's the thing about Innot Hot Springs. They're hot. Really really hot. Dad put his foot in it and nearly scalded himself, we needn't have bother boiling water for a brew ay.

Once at the Tubes we checked into our accommodation and cooked up some roo on the BBQ before settling in round the fire pit, dousing myself in mozzy spray before I sat down thus making myself flammable. Great. Especially giving my history of setting myself on fire.

Friday; 12/10/07
There's not a lot you can say about the Undara Lave Tubes. They're interesting, I enjoyed the tour but I can't for the life of me think of anything even vaguely entertaining to write here. They were formed by a shield volcano (that's one of the flatter ones that have a constant lava flow as opposed to the steeper once that have sporadic, violent eruptions, fact fans) a long long time ago, before even the Rolling Stones started making music and Cher discovered face lifts. The lava flowed and hardened on the outside but the centre remained molten and flowed right out thus forming the tubes.

So yeah, they're worth a visit I reckon and its a nice place to stay overnight.

By the time we got back to Cairns it was pissing it down, I didn't know whether to have a shower or just stand in the street for 10 minutes. Apart from, like, seven drops of rain in Broome once I hadn't seen anything falling from the sky since Perth. Weird.

Anyway, tonight I was going to have a brief Backpacker Interlude before we headed up to Cape Tribulation the next day. Irma, a Dutch girl I'd met in Alice and a few of her mates rocked up to Cairns so I armed myself with a bag of goon and wandered over to their hostel where I proceeded to get very drunk and stay up past my bedtime so I kidnapped Irma and made her stay awake with me until Mum and Dad came and picked me up. I'm sure it was a lovely drive but I slept all the way through it.

I should imagine it'll be just as lovely on the way back down.

Saturday; 13/10/07
Cape Tribulation can be easily described in one word. Paradise. Set in the Daintree Rainforest, you emerge from the trees straight onto the beach and it just takes your breath away and the only words you can manage are, "Fuck me, that's pretty!"

But whilst its probably one of the most amazing places on earth don't bother visiting if you're scared of salties, jellyfish, killer spiders or large, flightless birds with claws that can rip your guts out or you'll probably spend the entire time curled up in the corner of your room weeping gently. It is advisable whilst visiting Cape Tribulation to carry a big stick.

You also have to get used to being permanently damp, its either so humid that merely breathing makes you sweat like a blind lesbian in a fish shop or its pissing down with the kind of rain that Manchester would be proud of. But still, I love it here.

Saturday however was a write off. We ate some food, I topped up my alcohol levels and promptly caught up on some sleep.

Being A Tourist - Part 3

2007-10-10T22:55:00.000+08:00

Monday; 08/10/07
It is generally agreed in backpacker circles that 3am is a time you stay up until and not a time you get up at. However, when you're a tourist all the rules change, especially when you're going hot air ballooning at dawn in Mareeba which would be a nice leisurely drive if it wasn't on the other side of a hideous, winding road that's enough to make you sea sick. Plus we'd be doing the drive in the dark and there are all kinds of things that like to jump out in front nice, shiny cars at night on Australian roads. So yeah, I stayed over in Mum and Dad's nice air conditioned room in my swag and we dragged ourselves out of our pits at 3 o' clock in the morning and yes, there really is a 3 o' clock in the morning, its not a myth. I crawled into the back of my parents rental car with my pillow and was woken up when we got there. Not only was I now a tourist I'd regressed to the age of 5 again. Maybe later they'd get me a colouring book and some sweeties.

There are a few companies that run dawn balloon tours and they all generally launch from the same spot in the morning once they've worked out where the best spot that day would be based on wind speed and direction. Its all very technical. What Raging Thunder, the company we flew with do is stick a birthday candle in a piece of card and light it, put it in a white supermarket bag, attach two helium balloons to it and watch where it goes. I tried to ignore the eco warrior within ranting about littering the Queensland countryside with plastic.

This is one of those Words Don't Do It Justice Moments, apart from the roaring flame that keeps you in the air firing up every so often its so quiet, you get to watch the sun come up from a basket floating above the earth. I thought I'd be scared but I wasn't, I guess if I'm not expected to jump off or out of something then heights are ok with me. After we'd landed the second group jumped in and we followed the balloon in a coach to the second landing spot where we all helped pack it away. Its weird how its easier to get the air out of a massive balloon than it is out of an air mattress, you know how you can never quite fit it back in its box because there's always some pocket of air you missed? Well the balloon was packed away, stuffed into a bag and loaded onto a trailer in no time then it was off for a cooked brekky where I pulled my usual backpacker trick of Eating Until Movement Becomes Painful. Fortunately I only had to spend the rest of the day sat in the back of a car being driven through the Atherton Tablelands from waterfall to waterfall.

My love of waterfalls is well documented, since I left Perth and discovered Karijini National Park, The Kimberley and Litchfield I renounced beaches and oceans in favour of fresh water swimming holes and waterfalls. I love them and the Tablelands have an abundance of them. When me and the Chinese girls were camping at Georgetown I'd got chatting to a proud local who'd given me a map and marked the Must See places so we dutifully went to see them.

Top Row: Ellinjaa Falls, Zillie Falls, Milla Milla Falls. The Waterfalls That Make Up A Small Tourist Drive.
Bottom Row: Lake Eachem. Like Swimming In Velvet. No, Really.
She'd told me if I do nothing else have a swim in Lake Eachem. The water is the perfect temperature, not too cold but cool enough for a hot day, its perfectly still, motorised water sports are banned and its like swimming in velvet.

Velvet. Yeah right. Crazy lady.

But I like to swim so I got my kit off and jumped in and oh my god, its like swimming in velvet. It really is, the water is so soft, its gorgeous, seriously. There's BBQ facilties there an all, it's be the perfect place to go and spend the day and if you're lucky you'll see turtles. We weren't lucky this time.

Lets hope we don't get lucky enough to find a FNQ Funnel Web when we're walking in the Daintree either.

Tuesday; 09/10/07 - Wednesday; 10/10/07
Tuesday and Wednesday were spent recovering from the trauma of the previous day's early start and getting used to being covered in a fine film of moisture. October is the build up to the Wet, its hot, humid and rainy.

I spent most of the time indulging in the popular Cairns pastime of Lying Very Still Under A Fan.

Big Things #29

2007-10-10T21:59:00.000+08:00

A very large Captain James Cook does his best impression of a startled Nazi on the Captain Cook Highway, North Cairns, Queensland.

Being A Tourist - Part 2

2007-10-07T21:52:00.000+08:00

Sunday; 07/10/07
Ok so today we were Doing Stuff. We were getting off our arses and going to Kuranda which is a little rainforest township a mere rail ride from Cairns. And by rail I mean Skyrail, a sort of cable car ride that takes you over the canopy giving you amazing views of the rainforest with the ocean as a backdrop. So I suppose I could just about get used to this new idea of Australia. You have the opportunity to jump off at two places and go for a walk to look at Barron Falls before getting back on and continuing through to the town.

Kuranda is impossibly pretty, it doesn't look real. It feels like it gets packed up at 6pm when all the tourists go home and is taken out again in the morning like some kind of stage set, I half expected the locals to suddenly start singing and dancing like we were in some kind of bizarre musical. Mercifully they didn't. We had some time to kill before we were picked up to go horseriding so on the advice of a random Frenchman clutching a shingleback lizard we headed to Australia Venom Zoo where we parted with $15 each to go and look at some poisonous stuff.

The Skyrail.... View From The Cable Car.... Kuranda. Or Part Of It Anyway
We were shown around by a guy who clearly had no fear of things with too many legs. I'm fine with snakes, insects don't bother me, crocodiles are cool and whilst stingers are a bugger I know to keep out of the water and avoid them. But spiders? Oh fuck no, I can't handle spiders. They're the manifestation of all that is evil, nothing has any need to be that shape and there's just no need for them. We have fly spray these days and anyway, the ones that were on show here would probably turn down flies in favour of a nice, juicy human limb. He took a tarantula out of its tank and I realised I'd instinctively backed away about 3 metres, I swear it was looking at me and licking its chops.

He then showed us another spider sat in a mesh of web which turned out to be a Funnel Web spider but not a Sydney Funnel Web which, as indicated by its name, is found in and around Sydney. Oh no. This was a Far North Queensland Funnel Web and... hang on... weren't we in...? Oh fuck! This was a brand new species they'd just discovered, so new that they'd only ever found 5 of them but in order to create an anti-venom they needed 500. He went on to tell us that they're found north of Mossman in and around the Daintree Rainforest but if we were out walking in the area we'd be lucky to find one. Lucky?

Lucky??

Getting six numbers in the lottery is lucky. Backing the winner of the Grand National at 100:1, that's lucky. Walking in the rainforest and stumbling across the deadliest spider in Australia with a bite that can kill you in 15 minutes for which there is no anti-venom? That's not exactly on my list of Lucky Things To Do This Week.

After I'd been suitably traumatised we went to the meeting point where we'd be picked up by Blazing Saddles for a few hours wandering the rainforest on horseback. This was something Dad wanted to do because he'd never been on a horse in the entire 52 years he'd been on the planet. I'd not got on a horse for about 16 years and neither had Mum.

Blazing Saddles Souvenir Photo.... Horse Riding.... Kuranda Scenic Railway
Horses don't have a stop button or seat belts, there's nothing to stop you from falling off but grim determination and a death-like grip and the only thing to break your fall is the ground. Things that are recommended whilst riding are long trousers and a top with sleeves to avoid scratches from branches, sunscreen and a pair of sunnies to hide the look of abject terror in your eyes. It was fun though and despite the mildly sore arse due to the trotting they made us do we had a good time.

Then it was home again via the scenic railway which winds its way back to Freshwater station, slowing down for Stoney Creek falls and general outstanding views.

Such a hard life. I don't know how I cope.

Being A Tourist - Part 1

2007-10-06T21:31:00.000+08:00

On account of the abject boredom and the desperate need for anything resembling Decent Conversation I got to Cairns a couple of days earlier than expected, arriving on the same day as Mum and Dad thus dashing any hope they had of a quite couple of days recovering from jet lag, getting used to the heat and humidity and generally relaxing. I dropped the girls off in town and drove to Palm Cove to meet the pair that spawned me for the first time in 17 months and began three weeks of renouncing noodles and dorm rooms in order to Be A Tourist.

I've broken this down into bite sized pieces to make it easier to wade through, not that anyone is gonna read it anyway, I don't know why I bother half the time. Its a bloody good job I'm just about self centred enough to enjoy telling the world all about me me me regardless of whether they like it or not.

Friday; 05/10/07
Today we were going to Cairns Tropical Zoo in the morning then we were going to make some plans for the next couple of weeks in the afternoon, we'd get a nice early start, they'd call me when they were up and I'd drive in from town. I gave them until about 10.30am before I called to get them up.
I don't know, parents ay, lying in their pits until god knows what hour, anyone would think they were on holiday. So the afternoon plans were abandonded and instead we just chilled at the zoo. There'd be plenty of time for planning later and anyways, planning is best done over a beer.

The zoo is cool though, its $29 each to get in but you can easily fill a whole day there with the obligatory reptile talks, crocodile shows and cups of tea at the cafe plus you get to manhandle saltwater crocs before they get too big to remove limbs. And and and! I got to cuddle a koala for the first time. I kind of forgot they existed, they don't have koalas in WA or the NT which is where I'd been living, I'd stopped associating Australia with koalas thinking instead about stingers and crocodiles and other things that'd generally keep you out of the water on a blazing hot day.

Mum And Dad Feeding Roos.... Cuddling A Koala; They're Dangerous Y'Know.... Aww, Wook At The Wickle Saltie
If I had a totem animal the koala would be it. They're cute and cuddly (oi, stop laughing you fuckers!), sleep for 16 to 20 hours a day and eat food of no nutritional value whatsoever. If they drank I'm sure it'd be goon. So we spent the best part of the day there then headed back to Palm Cove for dinner.

One of the best things about Being A Tourist is the food, no more boiling noodles for 2 minutes in a kitchen which you have to share with 100 other people and probably e-coli. Oh no. Its cafes for lunch and restaurants for dinner.

I wondered how my body was going to cope with Nutrients.

Saturday; 06/10/07
On account of the lack of planning the day before it was a quite one today, me and dad went sea kayaking round Double Island which was nice whilst mum chilled out on the mainland.

Dad In His "I'm Comfortable With My Sexuality" Pink Kayak.... The Mainland.... Double Island
Cairns is promoted as the place where the rainforest meets reef but you don't really get the full impact of that until you look back at it from the ocean and see the headland covered in trees with the top of it shrouded in cloud. It's a beautiful place but so unlike what I'd become accustomed to in Australia, I was sort of missing the Eucalypts, the scrub and the vast open deserts but at the same time I love how diverse this country is. Oh its such a hard life ay. Which amazing place shall I visit next?

The Worst 2500km In History

2007-10-05T10:43:00.000+08:00

Left Alice Springs: 01/10/07
Arrived Cairns: 04/10/07

Bear in mind that its not long distances over vast expanses of nothingness that make road trips boring, Adelaide to Perth is 2600km across the Nullabor and I had a good time but then I had Kliff, Tim and an esky full of beer.

On account of the fact most my mates in Alice were locals who had no interest in driving 2500km to Cairns in a dusty Falcon, camping in rest stops and being generally skint I had to advertise for travel companions for the first time so I stuck a few notices up around the town and eventually Iris and Tammy, two girls from Hong Kong replied.

I have to admit, I was wary about taking strangers, its a long way to Cairns from Alice Springs but I couldn't afford to do the trip on my own and there's been a recent spate of peoples' cars breaking down, if it was going to happen I'd rather not be alone and Chinese people are small, if we were to end up on the side of the road the dingoes and sociopaths would go for the easiest targets first.

Anyway, it took three nights to get there and I can't say it was the most fun three nights ever but I figure that everything happens for a reason, if something can't be fun then let it be an education. Here's what I learnt over 3 nights and 2500km.

Lesson 1: Cheesy "Look At Me, I'm Holding Up A Huge Rock" tourist photos at the Devils Marbles are easier to do with travel buddies.

Yep, they're still there, still round and still red but the girls hadn't seen them before so we stopped for a look and a wander round for the obligatory photos. Then we drove. And drove. And drove.

Lesson 2: No matter how much practice you have pissing in the bush you can never, ever avoid splash back.

So I introduced them to their first free rest stop camp site. We'd robbed some firewood from another rest stop and we spent the night drinking tea and talking. Well, they talked and I just listened, I learnt very very quickly that they didn't actually understand a word I was saying.

Lesson 3: Mount Isa is a fucking horrible town.

We'd crossed the border into Queensland (thus officially putting an entire state between me and my beloved WA) and rocked up here on day 2. Its got all kinds of exciting things such as phone signal, supermarkets, tourist information and a fuck off great big mine slap bang in the town centre. A lot of inland settlements in Australia were formed specifically for some sort of mining purpose which means they aint there to be pretty, its just that Mount Isa is less pretty then most. It could be Manchester during the Industrial Revolution if it were to ever stop raining in Manchester, like, ever. There's also a lookout you can drive up to where you can see the whole city. Lucky us!

Although I gotta admit, the drive between Mt Isa and Cloncurry is one of the nicest I've done and there's a 24hr rest stop exactly halfway between with fire pits, running water and flushing toilets. Flushing! I wasn't used to road side bogs you could breathe in anymore.

I could feel civilisation creeping up on me and I didn't like it.

Lesson 4: I suck at making fire. Making smoke? I deserve a fucking medal. Making a mess? I could represent England.

Still, I got it going eventually while the girls sat back and talked amongst themselves in Cantonese. It wasn't that we needed it for heat, its just nice to have some light and something to focus on in the event that one of the party can't understand what the other two are saying. Then Sas, a Belgian girl rocked up, she'd arrived in a mega super deluxe shiny camper van with three other people she'd only known for three days and was already fed up of them so she came over for a chat. Sas, you have no idea how much you saved my sanity that night girl. We chatted for hours about everything, it was so good to just be able to talk and know that someone understands you and not have to repeat everything four times before getting a reaction that isn't a blank stare.

I decided that we needed to get to Cairns very very quickly.

Top: Look At Me, I'm Holding Up A Rock.... Iris And Tammy On The First Night.... Crossing Another Border
Bottom: Millstream Falls.... Wind Farm; Like The Green Green Grass Of Home.... Mount Isa; Ew

Lesson 5: No matter how still you lie in tropical north Queensland you will still sweat like a blind lesbian in a fish shop.

Some people like to take the main highway all the way to Townsville then hang a left up to Cairns. I thought it might be prettier to go left at Cloncurry and head directly north to Normanton. And it is. Its much prettier. But the roads are about as wide as a road train and road trains don't stop for anyone or anything and it also meant we were over 350km further north a whole day earlier than necessary. So by this point I was hot, stressed and so completely over Chinese music which is basically like really bad English music except I don't understand the words. Mind you, I don't understand the words to most English music these days, the lyrics are all garbled and they don't make sense and...

Holy fuck, at exactly what point did I become my mother?!

Lesson 6: I *heart* Lake Balmore!

I'd refused to drive the girls to Karumba which was a fishing town near Normanton, it would have been a 140km round trip and you can't swim there because there's too many crocs. If I wasn't so desperate to just get to Cairns by this point I'd have taken them, if I was with mates or people I could have a laugh with I'd have taken them, maybe even gone out on a fishing charter and stayed in the town that night. But no, the thought of it just depressed me and as long as the car was moving I didn't sweat as much so we drove on and got to Croydon where I asked them if they wanted to look around the town because I was feeling a wee bit guilty about being a stroppy cunt. I was gutted when they said yes though but was about to pull over then I saw a sign for Lake Balmore, about 7km away, good for boating, fishing, swimming.... swimming!

Sweet joy of joys!

And they have cold showers and BBQs as well and again, this is where my normal road trips differed from this one. If it wasn't such an effort I'd have suggested we go back to town, grab some meat and bread and maybe some beers, chill here for a few hours, maybe even pay camp in Croydon that night.

Bugger that though. We just swam, showered then it was back on the road to Georgetown where we pay camped because there's no decent rest stops between Normanton and Cairns.

Lesson 7: Asians have the Nod And Smile technique down pat.

It was the last day and we were getting back into phone signal areas around the Atherton Tablelands. There's loads to see and do around here, I just didn't want to do it, I'd come back later with my parents. We stopped at one waterfall, went ooh ahh then it was onwards to Cairns. So far there'd been no Crazy People related incidents but there would be if I didn't get some decent conversation soon, having to say things four times before you're met with something other than a blank stare is just painful.

Cairns is big and scary and there's lots of cars and people and shops and a choice of directions and three lane roads. I felt like I should wear shoes and clean clothes and stuff, I was far too well adjusted to the bush and my desert towns. Quite frankly it scared the fuck out of me.

I offloaded the girls at their hostel in town then fled to Palm Cove to meet mum and dad who'd arrived that morning. That's it now, I'm never advertising again. Either I travel with people I've got pissed with or I travel alone.

Lesson 8: Hong Kong was handed back to China in 1997

Not 1992, Loody. You were so wrong.

Mind you, so was I but I'm writing this really really small in the hope that no one notices...

Big Things #28

2007-10-03T10:38:00.000+08:00

Krys The Savannah King, the Big Crocodile in Normanton, Queensland is meant to be an actual sized model of a saltwater croc that was shot and killed near the area.

Still, he's big enough for the obligatory Look At Me, I've Got My Head In A Crocodile's Mouth photo so he can be an official Big Thing in my blog.

Big Things #27

2007-10-03T10:34:00.000+08:00

The Big Barra, Normanton, Queensland.

The one that got away after it beat you up and nicked your wallet.

Big Things #26

2007-10-01T10:42:00.000+08:00

The Big Man is at the top of a hill in Aileron, Northern Territory.

Fuck only knows how I missed this one on the way down, its not like he's the diminutive type is it.

A Town Like Alice

2007-09-30T10:26:00.000+08:00

Arrived: 27/08/07
Left: 01/10/07

Oh my god how much do I love Alice Springs? I didn't think there was anything to do here but Toni and nothing to see but drink and... wait a minute... swap that over...

(Just messin' luv, know you read this ;))

I only even came here because it was cheaper than Darwin and I was over picking watermelons, I didn't expect to have such an amazing time although I haven't blogged much in the 5 weeks I've been here because as much fun as it is, drinking so much that your brain seeps out of your ears and you're found sprawled on the floor around various parts of the hostel isn't exactly blog worthy.

I've loved living at Toddy's, the crew are awesome and they made my time here memorable. Well, the bits I can remember anyway. I love the feel of Alice and I love Bojangles. Oh stop rolling your eyes, its brilliant there, its cheesy as fuck, knows it and doesn't care and you also get that smug sense of self satisfaction when you manage to open the toilet door the right way whilst completely inebriated and anyone whos ever been to Bo's will know exactly what I mean by that.

Top: Me, Toni And A Snake.... Darryn And Jason.... Down The Firkin
Bottom: Nick And Karl.... The Bar At Toddy's.... Another Random Night At The Hostel
Even after Toni left I still had a good time, no sooner had I gotten over the shocking realisation that the world doesn't actually revolve around me, Loody, Jean and Becky rocked up under strict instructions to keep me entertained.

We did the usual Alice things, they headed out on a three day tour to Uluru and when they came back we decided to head into the McDonnell Ranges. I passed through the West Ranges last year when I was up here with Heading Bush and me and Toni went into the East Ranges for a day trip a couple of weeks previous but I wanted to take Becky, Loody and Jean an all so we duly stocked up on potatoes and goon and headed out.

Our first stop was Standley Chasm which is the only attraction you have to pay for in the West McDonnell Ranges. They say that the best time to view it is between 11am and 1pm when the sun is high and the steep walls of the chasm glow a firey red.

Bollocks.

We rocked up at noon on the dot, I don't know what was more insulting, the fact we paid $8 or walked for 15 minutes to see it. It's definately not the Ranges proudest moment but hey, next stop was a Ellery Creek Big Hole, I'd been there before and it's wicked. It's the closest thing Alice Springs has to a beach, its just a short drive from town and has all kinds of exciting things such as water and sand and too many people, just like a real beach.

Swimming in Ellery Creek is a challenge, its freezing cold and I mean freezing. You can swim all the way to the other side but about half way it gets easier because the hypothermia starts to set in and you go numb. Seriously, there should be some kind of medal for Doing Ellery Creek. I still love it though, its a beautiful spot and I have an addiction to fresh water swimming holes and the sunshine soon brings your nerve endings back to life so you can punish them again in the next water hole.

After that we just drove as far as you can in a 2WD up to Glen Helen and another gorge then it was back on ourselves to Ormiston. The West McDonnell Ranges are brilliant, you can just hop from one water hole to the next, chill out, relax. If you're peckish you can stock up on pies at Glen Helen Resort, just be aware that it aint Mrs Macs! When will we ever learn that if its not Mrs Macs not to bother?

And we had the best free camp ever in one of the roadside stops, it's a lookout with an amazing 360 degree view of the ranges, awesome at sunset. We're not too sure if you're allowed to camp there but nothing said we couldn't so we did. Ooh, walkin' on the wild side, us.

Top: ColdColdColdColdCold!.... Standley Chasm; No, Really, That's It.... Glen Helen Gorge
Bottom: Big White Arses At Ormiston.... Best View From A Free Camp Ever.... West McDonnell Ranges At Sunset
It is compulsary even on mini road trips to consume as much grease as possible which meant the first stop the next morning was the BBQs at the Ochre Pits for bacon and egg and a nice cup of tea before heading back towards Alice to refuel via the rest of the pretty rocks such as Serpentine Gorge and Simpsons Gap. Yes, we did do the obligatory Look Like The Simpsons tourist photo. I have to admit, I don't make the best Lisa in the world on account of the whole Not Being Yellow thing I have going on.

The East McDonnell Ranges are loads smaller than the West, you can do them in half a day easily unless you spend god knows how long painting yourselves up like Aboriginals in order to take amusing photographs. We'd done the same walk that me and Toni had done around Trephina Gorge, chilled by the dirty waterhole, had a bit of a dip then BBQ'd some spuds before breaking open the paint and going tribal.

Simpsons Gap.... Trephina Gorge.... Tribal
You can tell we've all spent too long in the bush. So easily amused.

Things To Do In The Alice That Don't Necessarily Involve Falling Over

2007-09-27T12:23:00.000+08:00

Ok so you can walk up Anzac Hill and see the whole town. This is useful for finding out where things such as McDonalds (an essential Hangover Cure) or the next pub is but don't attempt to climb up this hill whilst on the phone because it just makes you sound like a dodgy phone pervert to the person on the other end.

You can also go and get all mushy at the Baby Kangaroo Rescue Centre. They go out and rescue joeys from the pouches of road kill, raise them and release them back into the wild so that they themselves can become road kill and thus the cycle continues. It's $5 in and you get to play happy families with a little piece of the future of the NT's roads.

Not had enough of cute, fluffy marsupials? Head up to Heavitree Gap and grab a bag of pellets for $1 to feed the rock wallabies. Nothing like interfering with the natural flow of the food chain.

The Reptile Centre is $12 to get in unless you're a filthy backpacker and can prove it (and not with your handsome collection of goon bags either) in which case its $10. Don't go after you've been playing with joeys though or apparently the python might take a bit of a fancy to your extremities. These guys also do free handling and talks at various venues around Alice.

Rock Wallaby.... Thus Completely Destroying My Hard Image.... Anzac Hill
There's also some kind of big red rock type thingy about 300km south of Alice Springs, you may have heard of it. You can either self drive or you can fork out $295 plus park entry fees ($25 at the moment) and go with The Rock Tour which means you get to sleep during the boring Getting There bits and you get fed for three days. Can't be bad. The staff are also very good looking, especially the backpackers that clean the buses...

Here's the thing, I can't place why I love Alice so much. It's not a particularly special town, there really isn't much to do if you think about it but I'm still not ready to leave. No one ever hangs around for long, they rock up, do a tour to the centre, come back for one night then leave. I think it must be the people, they're awesome. They're so much fun and I'm gonna miss everyone.

Wonders Never Cease

2007-09-13T12:51:00.000+08:00

People had stopped referring to my car as the Falcon and had begun calling it The Car Over There That Needs A Wash. I'm currently semi-gainfully employed by The Rock Tour, they pay me to wash buses which gives me access to all kinds of exciting things such as Buckets, Hoses and Brushes.

Here are some fun and interesting facts I discovered after scraping months of dirt off it.

1. My car is blue.
2. You can see through windows.
3. Mirrors reflect.
4. Locust guts should be removed immediately in order to prevent them from becoming a permanent feature.
5. Red dust really doesn't Add Character.
6. Detailing a car that has seen 100s kms of unsealed roads with all the windows down since its last clean is fucking boring and will never get finished.

Return To The Alice

2007-08-29T14:42:00.000+08:00

Left Darwin: 24/08/07
Arrived Alice Springs: 27/08/07

Day One
Nothing starts a road trip like watching a man called Kingsley taunting one of the world's most dangerous creatures with a lump of meat hanging off a stick. Krystal had won a free ticket at The Vic to one of the Jumping Crocodile cruises and she gave it to me so I duly rocked up because free things are one of my favourite things in the world.

Once there, they lead you onto a large, comfortable boat very well suited to cruising up a saltwater croc infested river... then they lead you right through the other side onto a vessel resembling something you'd pack sardines into. It's an unnerving sensation sitting in this tin can as huge salties swim up to it, you can feel yourself slowly slipping down the food chain.

Heeerrrrre Croccy.... Fishing For Crocs.... The Closest I'll Ever Get To A Saltie With My Limbs Intact
So it was gone 4pm by the time I got my arse properly into gear to head down to Alice, I was thinking about heading through Kakadu National Park but after speaking to a couple of locals I didn't bother (Litchfield do, Kakadont) because I don't have a 4x4. Usually I laugh in the face of 4WD recommended and take the Falcon anyway but I generally reserve those little adventures for when I'm in the company of People Who Can Change Tyres. So yeah, I didn't bother with Kakadu, I was thinking about maybe spending the night at Litchfield but figured I should probably at least try and get further than 90 minutes from Darwin. I ended up at Douglas Hot Springs just as the sun had set.

Travelling this kind of distance alone is new for me but Alice was a spur of the moment decision and Kliff wanted to go back to Broome. That was a hard goodbye, I've been in the same town as Kliff pretty much constantly since we met in Melbourne, he's one of my best mates over here and a mate for life, we've done some awesome things and been to some wicked places together from the Great Ocean Road to crossing the Nullabor. He'll be leaving the country in October so that was the last time I'll see him, in Australia anyway.

Top: The 12 Apostles.... Taking Off Over The Great Ocean Road.... Sampling Oysters At Ceduna
Bottom: Hanging Ten On Wave Rock.... Xmas Eve On South Beach In Freo.... Night Out In Darwin
I usually eat quite well on the road on account of the fact I travel with people who crave strange and alien things such as Nutrients and Proper Meals With Ingredients. Left to fend for myself and I only eat because if I don't I'll fall over and even then its stuff out of packets and tins with the nutritional value of a spanner.

Another thing about travelling alone is the positive head space. Yeah, there's head space at the farm but its a shit situation, you can't sort anything out in your mind because you're too busy being miserable but just kicking back under the moonlight with a nice cup of tea and having time to properly think is invaluable.

And just so you know, mum; I camped in National Parks all the way down where there is little or no risk of abduction by a white ute driving sociopath.

Day Two
Douglas River is the kind of place that makes me insanely jealous of the people of Darwin because they have this on their doorstep. Its basically a hot river, so hot in parts it can burn you, you have to be careful where you get in. There's a bit where cooler water flows in to meet the hot water and there's a little dip in the sand so you can sit with your back in the hot water and your feet in the cold while the fish nibble on your dead skin. They're the fish that don't hurt, like the ones at Dalhousie. Not the vicious little bleeders that try and clean your mozzy bites by removing portions of flesh like at Florence Falls. Ok, I exaggerate, they're only about 10cm long, not quite big enough to tear your limbs off but I bet if they were they wouldn't think twice about it. Cunts.

Aaanyway, I was just sat in the river for a couple of hours because sitting in hot water is one of my favourite things surpassed only by vodka, chatting to a few people including a bloke called David, he's from Darwin but he'd been working away in Utopia, a desert town near Alice Springs. He was just on his way back and thought he'd chill at the river the previous night, just to relax before he went back to work.
I like David. He invited me for breakfast. Anyone who cooks bacon and eggs for me instantly wins my heart. He also gave me a stack of food he said he'd bought for when he was working away and wouldn't use it now he was going back home. I never need to shop again, especially for cereal, either David makes a habit of feeding backpackers and small armies or he was expecting to be involved in a minor siege in Utopia. I am now the proud owner of all kinds of expensive breakfast products as well as packets and tins of food that don't have Home Brand (like Tescos Value) written on them and a tub of marge which I intend to put on top of on of my food bags at a slight angle so that when the car heats up it liquefies and covers as much stuff as possible because thats what I do with all my marge.

Douglas River At Dawn.... Katherine Gorge.... Canoeing; Always Good For A Laugh Providing Shoulder Movement Isn't Necessary The Following Day
After a quick stop at Edith Falls for a swim and to be chewed on by them nasty little cleaning fish again I headed to Katherine to rent a canoe and go paddling up the gorge. I actually enjoy canoeing but I'm lazy, I never get far before I start wishing for an engine or maybe a slave to paddle for me. Katherine Gorge is pretty though and it was a good way to kill an afternoon. The camp site there is $9.50 a night for an unpowered site but that includes hot showers.

See, travelling in luxury, me.

And a big shout out to Kat and Dave who, while I was freshie spotting up the gorge, were busy being all grown up like and getting wed. Let me know when you start breeding, guys, I'll make sure I'm out of the country in order to avoid baby sitting duties.

Day Three
Most road trips in Australia involve copious amounts of driving distances incomprehensible to anyone whos never left the UK. Not even a fortnights holiday in Spain or a trip around France can prepare you for the sheer amount of kilometres you can drive without seeing anything. Today was Big Drive day, I wasn't intending to make it all the way to the Devil's Marbles tonight because there were a couple more hot springs I wanted to frolic in; Katherine Hot Springs and Mataranka Thermal Pool.

Katherine Hot Springs.... Mataranka Thermal Pool.... Well Its Hotter Than The Hot Springs Anyway
Katherine Hot Springs? Warmish springs more like. Not good for first thing in the morning, I'd been spoilt by Douglas River so I didn't last more than 20 minutes in there. Next stop was Mataranka, probably the more famous one. A resort backs onto it and the pool can apparently get proper busy. Again, it aint that hot and the sight of old men in Speedos is possibly one of the most traumatic experiences in the world.

I lasted 10 minutes.

So yeah, I made it to the Devil's Marbles in plenty of time for sunset which, as regular readers will know, is the best time to view Rocks With Names in the absence of alcohol. It was a long drive with the most interesting thing being the fire I drove through, it was so big the smoke blocked out the sun making it look like England on a winters day. Ok, make that any day. I think the press studs on the back pockets of my shorts are permanently imprinted onto my arse an all.

Devil's Marbles; Possibly Australia's Least Impressive Rocks With Names

Day Four
There's pretty much fuck all worth stopping for between the Devil's Marbles and Alice Springs apart from Wycliffe Well, allegedly the UFO capital of Australia.

Ohhhhh Kaaayyyyyy then.

It amused me though so I stopped to get a few photos.

I don't have an MP3 player so while I'm driving through dead zones I just let the radio scan the FM channels until it picks something up closer to the bigger towns. I got out of the car to get a photo of one of the signs and when I got back in the radio had stopped on 100.0 fm and was emitting white noise.

Ok. A wee bit freaky but yeah. I set it scanning again and drove to the next sign. Just as I was about to get out it stopped on the same channel and carried on with the white noise. It did it again when I pulled into the roadhouse, as long as the car was stationary it'd stop on 100.0 fm and emit white noise.

Were They trying to contact me? Maybe They were trying to tell me something.

I made a mental note to wrap my head in tin foil as soon as possible to stop Them from stealing my brain.

I was in Alice by lunchtime and met up with Toni for a bit. It's good to hang out with her again but I don't think her girlfriend agrees, I appear to have upset their delicate equilibrium and it only took me less than 24 hours.

So, join me in Alice Springs as I try and think of things to do in a desert town and fail to make decisions. I've been here 48 hours and I still haven't been besieged by marauding, horny lesbians. They must be blind. I mean, look at me!

*scratches mozzy bite on arse and peels scab off leg*

Random Nuggets Of Information #3

2007-08-27T00:48:00.000+08:00

On account of the fact I've had fuck all money and therefore no motivation to peel myself off whatever couch happens to be handy apart from when I have to go and ~~slave~~ work in a field I haven't quite managed to put together a suitably coherent post. I mean, I've been up to stuff since I got to Darwin, not much though because there's no fucking work in Darwin but yeah, stuff has occurred.

The following has been brought to you by abject laziness, a touch of boredom and no small amount of confusion as to why my usually fantastically reliable luck appears to have taken a holiday.

See I Did Have A Life Before Australia
So I was mincing through Darwin pretending like I was employable or something when I saw a man in a sarong and I thought, "Hmm. Man in a sarong" because lets face it, men in sarongs walking through Darwin are about as common as lesbians with 31 piercings walking through Darwin. Then I recognised him, it was Tristan, the stoner hippy Aussie I lived with at Stockmore Street in Oxford for a year about 4 or 5 years ago during one of the vaguer, messier periods of my life. There were some fun nights and days at Stockmore Street with our digital TV, PS2, mixing decks and an abundance of people who came round our place to party. The UV Wall was the centre of attention, I was a perverse mix of cybergoth, punk and crusty, kittens made great toys for fucked people and the Smily Army started to grow.

But still, good times and I do miss them but they weren't good for me. Tristan now works and lives at The Rock, an indoor rock climbing gym based in a WWII water tank, its fucking cool and means I get to go and play on fibreglass rock face 9 metres higher than normal. Regular readers will be aware of my fascination with putting myself in High Up places then wondering why because I generally like it better when incapacitation or death isn't imminent. Chilling with Tris is like we were never apart and the other guys at the gym are cool an all.

Anyway, so that's the main Darwin story. These days I stay in touch with everyone whether they mean anything to me or not. I'm in touch with random people I met only once and with people who didn't touch me in ways others did and I don't mean that in a filthy way. Well, not everybody anyway.

But the point is I've been reunited with someone I should never have lost touch with in the first place and hopefully, where ever I am or where ever he is we'll manage to stay mates from here on in.

The Top End City
The first thing you need to know about Darwin is that it's hot. Its winter in Australia but Darwin doesn't do winter. It does the Wet (50C and close to 100% humidity, monsoonal rains, cyclones and flash floods) and the Dry (around 30C in the day, never drops below 20C even at night, still quite humid, chance of rain is minimal). The Dry is when every backpacker and his Ford Falcon is in Darwin, I made the mistake of rocking up at the height of the Dry when there's more people than jobs.

Random Overheard Comment Whilst Watching The Sunset @ Mindil Beach Sunset Markets: "Wow, its like a big ball of fire init!"

Really? Ya reckon??

Apart from the odd retard, Mindil Beach on a Thursday and Sunday evening is the place to be. Live music (usually involves didge) and loads of food plus the usual home made jewellery and tie-dye which is compulsory at every market. And and and! Unless you have a severe addiction to buying stuff you don't want or need its free.

I had a couple of good nights out in Darwin, one thanks to the misguided notion that I might get work soon and one thanks to the Vic and their penchant for cheap or free food, party games and giving away beer. I think they work on the theory the drunker we are the larier we'll be and the more fun the night'll be.

Oh how right they are.

Twisting My Melon, Man
Ever tried to imagine Hell On Earth?

Take a mate and go down Coles or Tescos or whatever supermarket happens to own the country you live in. Feeling a bit posh? Try Waitrose. Students and backpackers, stick to the Co-Op.

Find a decent sized watermelon and play catch with it. Now imagine doing this for a minimum of four hours a day seven days a week.

In an oven.

On account of the fact I have tits and therefore can't be trusted to pick enough melons I get to do other things such as Drive The Tractor or Put Things In Boxes. It's definitely easier but this still has to be the worst job I've ever had surpassed only by that time I decided that cleaning in the slaughter room in an abattoir was a viable career option, instead of sheep heads hitting me in the noggin its melons hitting me in the tits but its still almost as unpleasant.

The backpacker house is cool, its like a hostel without the rules and the omnipotent "Don't Do This, Don't Do That" signs everywhere. The other people are wicked, you get four dogs to play with and if you don't mind the fleas its all good. The only other thing you have to deal with is being patronised by the sons although after receiving detailed and comprehensive instructions on how to use a rubber stamp I did manage not to slap Sam. Do I get a medal?

But yeah. Fuck it. Fuck melons. I'm off to the Lesbian Metropolis that is Alice Springs, not that I saw any dykes last time I was there but to be honest its difficult to notice much when you constantly have your face buried in a pint of beer.

Kindred Spirits
I have discovered that the Taiwanese have the same appalling taste in cheesy music as I have.

Always good to know you're not alone as a minority.

Big Things #25

2007-08-26T15:36:00.000+08:00

The Big Stubby (bottle of beer), Larrimah, Northern Territory.

If only.

*sighs*

This One's For You, Kat

2007-08-25T00:30:00.000+08:00

My best mate Katherine got wed today. Fucking typical, a major event in one of my closest friend's life and I'm... well... I'm in Katherine init. Not like that you filthy minded fuckers! The NT town.

Anyways, while I was at Wolfe Creek I recorded this message:

Me: Hi Kat, erm, I'm gonna try and do this without laughing, I haven't got a fucking clue what to say.
Erm, just wanted to say have a really good hen night and a wicked wedding day an I'm sorry I can't be there, I'm fucking gutted I can't be there. Erm, yeah, have a great one and sorry for the lack of purpleness but I do have to get a job when I go to Darwin, the whole purple hair thing isn't gonna work for me ay.

Anyway, this is Wolfe Creek crater. So hopefully... I'm recording this now in case I don't survive. Er, so I thought y'know, get it in there quickly, hopefully, y'know, somebody'll find the film, send it to you, get it all sorted, all that sort of shit.

And erm, hello everybody else who's watching this, hope you're all cool and, yeah.

Sarah: Haven't been washed away (referance to the recent floods in England).

Me: Haven't been washed... yeah, fucking hell yeah, hope you haven't drowned or something. Yeah, god yeah, I'd be gutted if you'd drowned. Yeah, get in touch and let me know you're not, like, dead and stuff.

Erm, clearly I might be on account of the man in a white ute over there. So yeah, cool have a good un.

Sarah: Offering you rain water (referance to the movie Wolf Creek).

Me: Offering me rain water. With a big knife. He was sharpening it earlier, it was a bit unnerving.

Erm, cool, alright. This is Nicky by the way.

Nicky: G'day.

Me: She's not... She's from Sale!

Nicky: I'm from Sale.

Sarah: Oh, my sisters just got a house there.

Me: And that's Sarah who's holding the camera.

Sarah: Hi! I don't know if I'm holding this so you can see me but...

Me: Brilliant. And, erm, yeah, cool. We're just watching the sunset from the crater then we're gonna go and get drunk because it's less painful when you're drunk when the knife goes in and severs the spine.

And erm, I'll hopefully see you soon. Ok. Bye bye.

Sarah: Bye.

Nicky: Bye.

Big Things #24

2007-08-24T15:33:00.000+08:00

Not even Steve Irwin godresthissoul would wrestle an oversized croc wearing boxing gloves.

Mainly because he'd be on the floor pissing himself laughing at something so fucking absurd.

The Big Crocodile, Humpty Doo, Northern Territory. Go on, its worth it for the jaw dropping pointlessness.

Work. Yay. I Think.

2007-08-17T15:12:00.000+08:00

On account of the fact I resemble a stapled mural with a grin (cheers for that one, Tickers) the only people in the world who'll employ me are ~~the Firey Pits Of Hell~~ a melon farm near Batchelor.

This means no phone signal or internet until what will seem like the very end of time.

*hyperventilates*

However, it does mean Litchfield on my days off. Every cloud has a silver lining.

Well, an off-greyish lining anyway.

Unemployment

2007-08-16T14:52:00.000+08:00

You know you've been involuntarily unemployed for too long when you find yourself slumped on a couch idly flicking through the jobs paper, poring over jobs which require skills that exceed your qualifications as a Good For Nothing Lay About Backpacker whilst criticising the inadequacies of childrens' television.

I've got no job, no money and I live in a car park. Meh. If I was any higher up in the world I'd smack my head on the chandelier. All I need now is a job in a sex shop and a date with a stripper.

Can you imagine the letter home to Gran?

Here's An Idea

2007-08-07T12:25:00.000+08:00

I'm going to move to one of the hottest cities in Australia, dress entirely in black and go job hunting.

Yeah. Because they're really going to want to employ me after I drip sweat on the application form.

Broome To Darwin

2007-08-03T12:19:00.000+08:00

Left Broome: 29/07/07
Arrived Darwin: 02/08/07

Day 1
Sarah who I know from Rainbow Lodge had flown to Broome the previous night to come to Darwin. Neil was meant to be coming but he dropped out so Nicki, whos romance me and Rachel (but probably mainly me) had destroyed had decided to come as well.
I dragged them off for one of my trademark early starts because I wanted to stay at a rest stop we'd had lunch at on the All Terrain Safaris tour because it was pretty and there were crocs in the river which meant we had over 600km to cover and I wanted to get there in the light. We stocked up the esky and hit the road.

After developing a somewhat disturbing habit up the West Coast of keeping food in the esky it was good to see it full of shiny silver goon bags and a litre of milk for tea making purposes. Food should be kept to a minimum in an esky as it takes up precious space needed for the ice to keep the goon cool although lets face it, cold goon tastes just as bad as warm goon. Its not even real goon in Broome, its actual wine with names like Chardonnay or Semillion Sauvengion or other things that should be pronounced with a bad French accent.

Anyway, today was just a mad dash to Mary Pool rest stop, about an hour from Halls Creek. We posed for photos with a crocodile, collected some firewood and made friends with the people who'd been there a few days for reasons we could never fathom.

Nicki, Sarah And Me.... Yep, That's As Close As I Was Getting.... Cooking Noodles On The Fire. Proper Backpacker Camping
Mary Pool is a nice place to spend the night but just the night, it really is a rest stop in the middle of nowhere. Nicki and Sarah set their tents up and a bloke came over and warned us about the cows, apparently they wander through the site alot but they probably wouldn't trample the tents, I should be careful in my swag though.

Right on cue a huge bovine stampeded through the caravans and cars. I abandoned my usual habit of sleeping by the fire that night. If I'd have slept any closer to the car I'd have been under it.

Day 2
One of the advantages of the mad dash yesterday was that we could just chill out this morning, have a lie in, take our time, have a cooked breakfast (which translates as egg sandwiches) which we nearly ended up sharing with Bruce, some sort of parrot that was obviously used to being fed.

He had no bloody fear, the little bleeder. The next parrot that tries to take my breakfast will become breakfast.

And then it was onto Wolfe Creek, 154km south of Halls Creek along the unsealed Tanami Road that runs all the way to Alice Springs. When Sarah had tried to get there last year apparently it was a shocking road, they couldn't get over 20kph so they gave up but this time it had been recently graded and apart from the huge, unsignposted dips you have to look out for you can get your speed up to about 80 - 110kph on the good bits. The only bit you might want to worry about in a 2WD is the last 10km of the turnoff, its just rocky and corrugated and there are three or four gates you have to go through. It was at one of these that Nicki lost her iPod, we went back for it but someone must have picked it up.

Bugger. I'd also lost a hubcap somewhere along the way but to be honest I needed a new set anyway on account of my habit of using kerbs as a handy Stop When You Hear The Crunch parking gauge.

Top: Wolfe Creek Meteorite Crater
Bottom: Welcome To Wolfe Creek.... Inside The Crater.... The Abandoned Homestead Near The Crater
There's free camping, like, right at the bottom of the crater and about 4 or 5 other people were camping there. Wolfe Creek isn't scary at all. Its a good, well used road in, people stay here all the time and there's a distinct lack of sociopaths and psychotic murderers in utes equipped with spotlights so they can dazzle their intended victim while they stumble about screaming, "Who are you?! What do you want from me?! What have you done with (insert name of unfortunate now ex boyfriend here) you bastard!"

What? What do you mean I watch too many films?

Wolfe Creek is something else though. We climbed into the crater, realised how unfit we were when we climbed back out and watched the sunset from the rim. It was a full moon rise that night an all, it was awesome, second only to a Broome Staircase moon rise.

Fuck I love my life.

Day 3
We survived Wolfe Creek Meteorite Crater with our spinal cords intact, so far it was a successful road trip.

Today was a none event, we just wanted to get as close to Lichfield National Park as possible. We crossed the border and I left WA for the first time in over 8 months. Fuck I love that state and its capital more than anywhere else in the world.

We lost an hour and a half of our lives when we crossed the border but we made up for lost time on account of the 130kph speed limit they have in the Northern Territory and they only recently brought that in. Until then you could go as fast as you wanted until your car fell apart.

Leaving WA Forever.... NT Speed Limits.... As Fast As You Can LEGALLY Go In Australia
We drove into the night, only just avoiding a couple of startled looking kangeroos, before we set up camp.

Day 4
I *heart* Lichfield National Park. Seriously, its awesome here, I'd even go as far as to say its better than Karijini.

*dodges missiles thrown by WA types*

Oh what? Come on, WA is still my favorite state, its just that the Territory has the best national park. I know I know, its a controversial statement but Lichfield is more accessible than Karijini and the swimming holes are slightly warmer. Just watch yourself in Florence Falls, I felt something scratch my leg and looked down and there was this little fish just looking at me. It had gone for one of the mozzy bites on my leg, apparently they're some kind of cleaning fish and they'll try and clean out any wounds that you have.

Oh thanks, very fucking helpful! Try using cotton wool or something next time you vicious little sod.

Top: Florence Falls.... Buley Rockhole.... Collecting Firewood
Bottom: Wangi Falls.... Nice Croc, Nasty Croc.... Tolmer Falls
Lichfield is like a big, natural waterpark, Buley Rockhole is fun, its like a little cascade you can follow down, one of the pools is about 6 metres deep so you can jump in off the side. Its only a little jump though, I managed this one and at least there were no 69 year old women to put me to shame this time.

Camping is $6.60 per person per night, we stayed at Wangi Falls because they're pretty and there's a little pool a few metres up the rock face which is a bit warmer than the rest of the plunge pool. I mean, I'm not saying you'd run your bath to that temperature but its still nice enough for you not to want to get back into the cold pool afterwards.

Day 5
After another morning playing in Wangi Falls (oh yeah, and random as fuck, we bumped into Julien who I know from Echuca and his girlfriend Naomi who came on the Neighbours tour with me) with me and Sarah finishing the goon off, Nicki drove us to Darwin. Apart from one minor incident where I woke up in the back because she'd put my car in a ditch *glares* we made it in one piece and checked into Gecko Lodge.

Right. Lets see how long it takes me to get bored of this place.

Big Things #23

2007-07-31T12:15:00.000+08:00

We went 50km out of our way to see the Big Crocodile in Wyndham, Western Australia.

Well its not like there's any other reason to go to Wyndham is there.

The Kimberley: Days 11 & 12

2007-07-28T12:12:00.000+08:00

On account of the fact I slept for the majority of the two days back to Broome I'm going to insert a pretty little slideshow here containing the best photos from the road trip to distract you from the fact I'm too lazy to think of anything witty or coherent to write. Isn't it impressive? I'm going to ignore the fact I stole the code off another website and sit here and marvel at it for a while.

I was back in Broome about an hour when I randomly bumped into four people I knew in three separate places before I even got back up to the MCG to say hi to everyone. Ahh, Broome. Gotta love the tinyness. I also went to McDonalds to get a quick grease fix and got some very odd looks off a lad called Dan who Nicki had an interest in. Now, let me take you on a little trip down Not Much Of A Memory Lane...

Nights You Can't Remember With Friends You'll Never Forget
A while ago after a big night out we stumbled back to the campsite where Nicki asked me to call this lad who worked at McDonalds so, being the pissed up matchmaker I was called him at some obscene hour in the morning and demanded to know when he was taking Nicki out for a Chinese and a movie. He agreed to take her out and they met up a few times.

Aaaanyway, forwards to my leaving Broome party. Everyone had come to the Last Resort where I was staying and we'd had a few drinks there on top of the drinks me and Loody started on not too long after lunch. I remember leaving the Lastys. I remember getting to the Oasis. I even remember leaving that bar and getting home at some foolish hour. I have no recollection of what happened between leaving the hostel and getting to the bar.

Nicki does.

Apparently, me and Rachel had demanded to know which one was Dan and Nicki had no choice but to point him out because we were being so loud about it. He works at the drive through window so we got in our imaginary car, me driving, Rachel in shotgun DJing and Nicki in the back. Apparently she didn't want to be in the back but we made her because Rachel wanted to be DJ and it was my imaginary car but still, she actually got into our car and we walked through the drive through.

Making car noises.

It gets better.

After that I believe I spent a good while shouting at Dan and demanding that he take Nicki out while Rachel ordered fries. Once she'd finished them she asked Dan for a free refill and when he said no she told him, "You suck! I'm gonna tell Nicki you suck then she won't go out with you!" At this point I apologised for her behaviour because of course my behaviour at this point was perfectly acceptable then proceeded to escort her off the premises because she was drunk.

We stumbled out of Maccas, turned round to Nicki who was cowering outside and said, "Erm... I don't think your romance is a romance anymore."

So that would be why the poor bloke asked his supervisor for a break as soon as he saw me.

Yep, definitely the right time to be leaving Broome for good methinks.

Things That Can Kill You #6

2007-07-27T19:50:00.000+08:00

This little bleeder was bigger than anything with eight legs and fangs has any right being and was on the ceiling in a rest stop toilet on the Great Northern Highway. As if drop toilets aren't scary enough as it is.

There hasn't been a Death By Redback in Australia since about 1956 when the anti-venom was developed and even then there was only about 13 recorded deaths before that. Also, its only the females that are poisonous, they're part of the Widow family. Psychotic bitch. My kinda girl.

None the less, I decided to give the loo a miss and risked spiking my arse on the spinifex behind a rock instead.

The Kimberley: Day 10

2007-07-26T07:43:00.000+08:00

A helicopter ride over Purnululu will cost you $185 for 18 minutes so that morning I duly handed over the Magic Plastic and jumped on the scales for the obligatory weigh in. I'm 5kg heavier than I was when I had my medical in February. FIVE! Although I think at least four of that is my extra chin which is currently in direct competition with my arse to take over the world. I don't know how that happened, one day I have one chin, the next day it has company. If this continues I'm gonna start charging it rent.

Aaaanyways, the flight was awesome, I love helicopters, they're just so fucking cool!

Once we were all firmly grounded it was time for more walks through pretty places that we could ooh and ahh at. There's not much else to say about them, its all about the scenery and the photos don't do it justice but what the hell, I can't think of anything else suitably coherent to say, I'm writing this rom Darwin and I'm ill and its not even self inflicted, I should be writing my fucking will or something but instead I'm keeping you all up to date on my oh so interesting life whether you like it or not.

Have some more photos. I'm off to feel sorry for myself and see how many people I can get to make tea for me.

Top:Mini Palms Walk.... Echidna Chasm Walk.... Logodile Wrestling
Bottom: Purnululu Sunset

The Kimberley: Day 9

2007-07-25T19:40:00.000+08:00

This morning we picked up our last newbies, four people from Melbourne, then headed towards Purnululu National Park, better known as the Bungle Bungles. It was weird being back on sealed roads but when we heard a tour bus had literally split in half along the Gibb the other day I could have kissed the tarmac.

It took most the day to get to the Bungles then we did the Cathedral Gorge walk which is just brilliant.

I was having a lot of doubts about the way I was running my life when I was in Broome for number of reasons. I was wondering what I was doing uprooting myself from situations where I was comfortable and happy and taking myself to places where I was miserable in the name of adventure and seeing everything in the world. Since the day I got to Broome I was constantly toying with the idea of going back to Perth and giving up on seeing the rest of the country, the west coast was what I mainly wanted to do anyway and I was happy in Perth. But just doing things like taking a helicopter flight over the Mitchell Falls and wandering through the Bungle Bungles ranges made me realise that yeah, I'm doing it right. This is what its all about, this is why I get out of bed in the morning. I need a constant influx of new things to play with and do and its worth it for a month or two of confusion and hurt. No matter how low you get, no matter how bad the situation is or how unsure you are, something will work out in the end. Something always crops up and everything happens for a reason.

I have no regrets about the way I do things and I'll never give this life up for anything.

The River Crossing Into Purnululu.... The Bungle Bungle Ranges.... Group Photo; If You Look Closely You Can Just About Make Out My 6th Chin
Somewhere along this walk, if you stop, stand next to a certain rock and listen you can hear a humming noise coming out of the actual rock. Mary said the rocks were singing but Mary's a fucking fruit loop. Its just full of bees, millions of robber bees, so called because they rob off with other bees honey and lock it inside rocks so nothing can rob it off them. Pikeys.

Eventually you come to the reason its called Cathedral Gorge, its like this massive cave with a brilliant echo. Mary started doing her thing with branches again so I hung back to make sure there'd be no weirdness before I went in. We chilled there for a bit then headed up to a lookout to watch the sunset over Purnululu with chips and dips and pickled onions. This was the sweatiest we'd been since the trip started and it was the only time we didn't have access to any water at all, no swimming and no showers apart from a hosepipe hooked up to a cold tap.

But yeah, Purnululu is brilliant. It's just utterly peaceful, fucking awesome. And to think I could have been back in Perth at this point.

Nope. Not for anything.

The Kimberley: Day 8

2007-07-24T07:38:00.000+08:00

Today was time for a lie in. Oh sweet joy of joys! Even though a lie in when you live outdoors means getting up with the sunrise as opposed to before it even gets light.

Whatever, we could get up when we felt like it and fill our mornings however we chose. We didn't have anything to do until 9am when we'd be dropping Pam off at the coach stop, leaving Bill in town because he was over large bodies of water containing crocodiles and picking Pat and Dick up from their motel because they had the sense to book into one instead of sleeping on the floor in a swag for their last couple of nights in WA before heading to Scott's place again.

Scott's lovely, he's one of them blokes that are incredibly good looking and genuinely nice with it. Bastard. He's also got money, I actually heard the words "only $3000" come out of his mouth. In that order. Only $3000? Is that it? I'll have two.
He was going to take me, Pam, Dick, Isabelle, Mary and Glen out for the day where we'd be dragged along the Ord on body boards and tubes. And here's me worrying about how I was going to fill the day.

Scott's Boat.... Hours Of Fun.... Just Chillin'
Being dragged along by a jet boat is loads of fun, you just have to remember to let go out the rope if you come off the board or you risk giving the crocs an interesting view of your nipples. There's also a 10 metre jump into the river, about the same height as the big jump at Blackwall Reach which I only did once then seemed to leave my nerve in the car every time I went back. Apparently I must have forgotten to collect it this time as well, I got to the top and my legs refused to let me jump. My head wanted to do it, I know its a rush and I know I'd love it once I did it but nope, the legs thought better of it. This is obviously something I need to deal with, I only need two irrational fears in my life and those are spiders and commitment. Babies scare me as well but they're a bit slower than spiders and you can usually stamp on them before they try and run up your leg.

Ok I'm just trying to put off what I'm going to say next. Pat did the jump. Pat's 69. I was put to shame by a 69 year old woman. If I'm half the woman Pat is when I'm 69 I'll be happy, she has a go at everything, no questions asked, she's an inspiration. In short, Pat rocks.

Only me, Bill, Isabelle and Mary from the original group would be heading back and tonight we were joined by four of our new crew who'd be coming back to Broome with us. There was Sally and Simon, a couple of southern fairies and Paula and Ed, two northern monkeys from Sale. We had a BBQ then me and the new lot bonded the only way English people know how; Down the pub.

The Kimberley: Day 7

2007-07-23T07:26:00.000+08:00

Connections hadn't even folded their table cloth by the time we drove out of the camp site and to Zebedee. Scott lived in Kununurra and was a regular to El Questro and the hot springs, we followed him to the warmest pool where we stayed until we got wrinkly or, in some cases, wrinklier. I love sitting in hot water, me, I'll never get bored of it. Of course its infinitely better with a large quantity of alcohol but whatever, its still nice just to chill out in a vat of water that isn't gonna get cold anytime in the next few thousand years.

Pruning.... Zebedee Hot Springs.... We Survived The Gibb River Road!
It was today that we finished the Gibb River Road and got back onto the tarmac. We'd done it, we'd survived the Gibb. Ok, so we survived it in a big shiny air conditioned bus driven by an expert but hey, we did it anyway. And so it was onto Kununurra where we'd be losing Pat, Dick, Lil, Tom, Pam and Scott because they had better things to do than go back to Broome.

Ok, here's the thing, tomorrow we had a whole free day to ourselves and I couldn't even fill an afternoon. Seriously, it takes about 4 minutes to walk around town and I didn't fancy any of the overpriced cruises up the Ord River. I did however manage to find a 4 litre cask of goon in a bottle shop. This made me happier than it should have done and I made a mental note to keep a close eye on my drinking habits although I quickly forgot this mental note later on when me and Isabelle were drinking it out of the bag.
So I was trotting back to the camp site, chuckling to myself over the discovery of the joyous 4 litre cask of goon when Scott pulled up in his Landcruiser and asked me if I wanted to go out on his boat.

Oh, ok then. We drove to his and took his boat back up the river to the campsite to fetch the others. On the way we went passed Elephant Rock, so called because it looks like an elephant.

Erm... does it?

*squints*

Nope, can't quite see it. Has anyone got any spare hallucinogens because clearly that's the only way I'm going to see an elephant in that there rock.

Proper Goon!.... Elephant Rock (Allegedly).... Sunset Over The Ord River
We watched the sunset over the Ord River from Scott's boat which shat all over the posh expensive sunsets the people at the station pay for then went to the local pub for a last meal together and a few drinks.

Despite the age differences we'd all got on really well, Pat and Dick even said I could go and stay with them in Tasmania any time I wanted on the condition I didn't swear in front of their grandkids.

Swear? Moi?

I'm sure I don't know what the fuck they're talking about.

The Kimberley: Day 6

2007-07-22T14:27:00.000+08:00

Today we rocked up to El Questro station, or El Shiny Town as its also known. They have 1 million acres of land but only 8000 cattle which they move around randomly and pretend to be a working cattle station as opposed to the overpriced flashy resort they are so they don't lose their lease. Its $15 per person per night just to camp here and if you want to stay in the homestead its $2000, minimum stay two nights.

Nope, my finger didn't slip on the zeros then, its two thousand dollars per night. I have no idea what this will get you but for that price I'd want topless waitresses and oral sex.

Earlier in the day we'd had lunch at a lookout that randomly had chairs and tables positioned in the middle of nowhere where, apparently, the posh folks from Home Valley station went to watch the sunset. As I stuffed the Biggest Sandwich In The World into my mouth I wondered how much they paid to get up here for their sunset which would no doubt involve champagne and a tablecloth. I bet it was no where near what the El Questro posh folks paid for theirs.

Not A Bad View At Lunch.... El Questro Gorge.... El Shiny Town
After a quick walk through El Questro Gorge and a mad dash up an intense 4WD track to Branco's Lookout for nibbles at sunset(check us out, how El Questro are we?) it was time for hot showers and cold beers and a quick talk why we had to beat the Connections tour bus to Zebedee Hot Springs the next day, there were about 20 of them and there's limited space in the pools. No worries, as Tom pointed out they wouldn't go very fast with flat tyres... No, apparently this wasn't an option, we just had to get up early. Oh what a fucking surprise.

Later on I caught sight of myself in the full length mirror in the shower; I was getting proper fat, I looked three months gone. It must be all that Proper Food, it must be just sitting in my stomach not digesting because my body hasn't got a fucking clue what to do with it.

The diet, as always, would start tomorrow.

The Kimberley: Day 5

2007-07-21T14:24:00.000+08:00

Today was relatively uneventful in that we spent most of the time on the bus driving back down from the Mitchell Plateau towards Drysdale station, the glorious oasis in the middle of the Kimberley with a bar and hot showers. It doesn't mean things didn't take a freaky turn for the weird, though. There will now follow a lot of words, please make sure you're sitting comfortably and you have a nice cup of tea handy.

One of the places we stopped was an Aboriginal burial ground. Glen told us not to take cameras in, it was bad luck. He also told us we didn't have to go in if we didn't want to then started to tell us all about the area, the burial rituals and how to behave in a place like this. Glen was adopted by an Aboriginal family and grew up in a remote settlement in the Daintree, Queensland. As a result he knows more than most white guides about Aboriginal culture, we were lucky to get him for this tour which did focus quite a lot on Aboriginal rock art and their beliefs, its not something I'm normally interested in, I just wanted to look at the pretty waterfalls and the Bungle Bungles but the way Glen talked and his obvious passion for the subject did instill some sort of interest.

And here's where things got weird. Mary, a Kiwi lass living in Sydney who alternated between talking like she had the mental age of 8 ("ooh look at the little fwroggy!") and intelligent conversation had snapped a small branch off a tree and was circling it around her head, body and ankles. Ok, maybe she has OCD. If she has OCD she needs rituals like that to function, right? Even I have certain rituals I need to go through in certain situations but I do them in my head to avoid freaking people out any more than a pierced, tattooed lesbian from Stockport already would.

At this point, Glen had started talking with a strong Aboriginal accent and dialect which is recognisably Australian but they sometimes structure their sentences slightly different, use distinctive words white Australians don't and their accent stands out from white Australians an all. If you spoke to an Aborigine on the phone you'd be able to tell. He told us that he would let the old people at this site know we were coming and they didn't have to fear us and they were welcome to look into our hearts. Ok, fair enough, this was a wee bit odd but hey, its his thing and we were in his world now. Cool. As we walked into the burial ground he called out in his local Aboriginal language and we all followed, Mary clapping rhythmically.

We all wandered round mainly in silence, it was a burial ground after all and the bones and skulls nestled in a hole in the rocks reminded us of this. Then Glen separated the guys from the girls and led, me, Lil, Pam, Pat, Isabelle and Mary to a section he said was only for the women. This is common in Aboriginal culture, there are places only men can go and places only women can go as well as places everyone can go. He told us to go in and take our time, take it all in and left us at the entrance. It was at this point Mary turned round almost in tears and said loudly, "I would like to lead the women back to this place! Does anyone have a problem with this?"

A problem? Nope, no problem at all, Crazy Lady! She started walking into the area, clapping rhythmically again and shouting loudly about respecting the guardians to the right or something. I fled back to the blokes to talk about footy and beer where Dick was wondering what Glen thought he was doing, letting a load of women go off on their own, it could only mean trouble.

I was chatting to Pat and Lil about what happened a bit later on, Pat said she thought Mary was on some sort of spiritual journey. Well she's on fucking something anyway. I mean, she's a nice enough lass and her heart's in the right place but she's a fucking nut job.

Anyway, we looked at some more Wandjina art that we could photograph then headed to Drysdale and the hot showers where I removed all excess body hair before it tried to dredd and settled down with a cold beer.

The Wandjina, The Creator Spirit Of The Kimberly People Who Came Down From The Milky Way And Made Everything On The Earth.... Hot Shower!.... Clean And Plyed With Alcohol
Fucking bliss.

I curled up in my swag that night, content and at peace with the world, hoping to fuck that someone had remembered to hide the sharp implements from Mary.

The Kimberley: Day 4

2007-07-20T14:17:00.000+08:00

One of the reasons I did this tour was because they went up to the Mitchell Falls, an amazing 4 tiered waterfall in one of the most remote parts of Oz. Not all tours do it because its hard on the vehicle and its a bloody long way. I reckon its worth it.

I don't know what I expected from a camp site that's so hard to get to but I didn't expect a toilet. We got one anyway, a standard drop toilet like the ones you find all through the Kimberley and at 24hr Stopping free camps on the side of the road. For those of you who haven't experienced the joy of drop toilets, let me explain;
They're basically a toilet bowl which I strongly advise you to hover over instead of sit on even if you need to shit, seriously, work those quads. And its a classic Don't Look Down situation coz if you look down you'll find out exactly what everyone who used the bog before you had for breakfast. And lunch and dinner for that matter. They're waterless, you just do what you gotta do, close the lid and walk away and decomposition does the rest. Its times like these you learn exactly how long you can hold your breath for.

Aaaanyways, on to more pleasant things like eating insects.

Yep, eating insects. While we were walking up to the falls we passed loads of green ant nests. They make nests in trees out of leaves and the ants taste like sour lime, I didn't eat one though on account of the fact I'm socially conditioned not to put insects in my mouth. No. I just licked its arse.

And once more for the record; I licked an ants arse.

Behind Little Merton Falls.... Green Ants; Just Eat A Fucking Lime Instead, They Don't Have Legs.... Big Merton Falls
Mitchell Falls are awesome, I could sit and watch them for hours. I'd love to fly over them during the Wet just to see how amazing they look in full force. We spent a bit of time swimming at the top of the falls, you can't swim anywhere else because the Wungurr Creator Snakes live there and will punish you for your disrespect. Well, that and you'd probably be sucked over the edge to your death anyway, its best to nod and smile and go "Hmm, yeah, creator snakes" and just stay where they want you to.

Top Row: Mitchell Falls. Pretty, Ain't They?
Bottom Row: Taxi Home.... Me, Grandma Pat And Grandad Dick.... Dinner On Little Merton Falls
There are two ways back to the car park from the falls; either you spend 90 minutes walking back the way you came or you take a helicopter back. Options range from the 6 minute Taxi flight which will cost $90 to the Coastal flight which takes you for miles and will cost you your first born and two limbs. Me, Pat, Dick and Pam went with the $90 option which meant we had to cook dinner for the others when we got back because Glen wanted to have dinner at Little Merton Falls where we could watch the sunset. It's a nice idea in theory and getting there with large pans of food, plates, drinks and cutlery was no problem. Getting back with one torch between four of us was slightly more amusing. Have you noticed how many more rocks there are when you can't see them?

If I Were You I'd Turn The Sound Off For This Video, It's Just Not Pleasant.
Helicopter Flights And Waterfalls, Two Of My Favourite Things In The World. All I Need Now Is A Bottle Of Vodka, A Slice Of Cake And Oral Sex.

Today was awesome, it was a big day and I was suitably knackered as were Scott (22) and Isabelle (27), we fell asleep listening to the old folk singing Waltzing Matilda and slating the "young uns" for not being able to keep up with them.

Well some of us are conditioned to get an early night for work the next day thankyouverymuch.

Well that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.

The Kimberley: Day 3

2007-07-19T21:13:00.000+08:00

Last night Glen had told us about a little problem he'd found with Betsy, his beloved bus. He enlightened us with load of mechanical jargon which went totally over my head and brought on the urge to wear pink and play with dolls like the girl that I am but the top and bottom of it was, the 4WD on the rear axle wouldn't engage and with this being a 4WD tour that wasn't a good thing. Fortunately we were in a position to swap buses, an All Terrain Safaris vehicle coming from Darwin were on their way down from the Mitchell Plateau and we could have their bus because the home straight didn't need 4WD.

Brilliant.

However, it meant getting up at 5am.

There are two five o' clocks in a day??

We met the other bus at the Gibb River crossing and I got chatting to an English couple from Glastonbury about where they'd been, how their trip was and how they were coping without beer. They'd just come back from Drysdale station which has 1 million acres of land and a bottle shop. I'm not sure which of these facts I was more impressed by. The bloke left and I chatted to his missus for a while then he came back and dumped 5 cans of icy cold Tooheys New into my arms. I think I fell in love with him at that moment, I'd have hugged him if I wasn't too busy hugging beer. Back on our new bus and the others declined my offer of sharing them, something about it only being 10am or something. Meh. They obviously haven't spent long enough with backpackers.

Swapping Buses.... Beer!.... King Edward River
The rest of the day was spent driving up the the Mitchell Plateau which takes half your life on account of the corrugations you can lie down in. We crossed the King Edward river, set up camp on the banks and went for a swim. Fuck me, that water was cold. Its the kind of cold that causes you to make involuntary monkey noises as you ease yourself in so you can imagine the kind of noise I made when I slipped on a rock and went arse over tit into the water. Meh. I was only intending to go for a bloody paddle an all.

Appropriate Signage On The Way To The Plateau
There aren't many things scarier than filling a washing up bowl from a river inhabited by crocodiles in the pitch black with only a piss poor head lamp for company but that's what I ended up doing because no one else would. I don't care that they're "only freshwater" crocs, knowing my luck I'd come face to face with the only freshie in the river with PMT that was having a bad day anyway coz some tour leader shone a light in its eyes the night before to impress the group. I didn't see anything but it didn't stop that overwhelming feeling of abject terror you only get when you're a kid and you think the gremlins are after you.

Later on we bribed some kids with marshmallows to tell us stories and jokes.

Nope, there's not much else in the way of entertainment in one of the most remote parts of Australia.

The Kimberley: Day 2

2007-07-18T21:11:00.000+08:00

We were up before the sun this morning which was pretty much going to be the trend for most of the 12 days because, as Glen said, the Kimberley is all about the daylight hours and fitting as much in as possible. I made a point of ignoring the time. Fortunately I can sleep anywhere, even one of the roughest roads in the world on the back of a huge 4WD bus with my head knocking against the window as I drool onto my own shoulder because we didn't have a full group so I had no one elses shoulder to drool on.

We checked out Windjana Gorge (which used to be a huge coral reef when it was under water) and the crocs in the daylight before jumping onto the bus and heading up the Gibb River Road towards Mount Barnett.

First stop was Galvan Gorge, its the most accessible gorge up the Gibb and one of the best. Y'know I think I'm over beaches and getting stung by jellyfish, saltwater in my sinuses and sand in my crack but I'll never get bored of gorges and waterfalls and swimming in freshwater pools you can drink out of although I wouldn't because I know what I do when I need to go in the middle of a swim. Its the same reason I'm wary of warm pockets of water near content looking people.

Scott.... I'll Never Get Bored Of Waterfalls.... Rope Swing.... Galvan Gorge
Eventually we tore ourselves away from the waterfall and the pool and got back on the bus to head towards the next walk and our camp for the night.

The walk to Manning Falls begins with a swim, you have to put your shoes and your rucksack in a polystyrene box and push it over in front of you, trying not to panic and drag it under like some of our group did. They gave up and swam back to wait for us while me, Isabelle, Scott and Mary headed to the falls and another swim. The walk is meant to take an hour, it took us half that time on account of the fact no one brought a torch and the thought of heading back in the dark didn't appeal to us. The crew that didn't give up joined us 10 minutes later before we went back.

Y'know when you're on a walk and you're going downhill and you're painfully aware of the fact that its uphill all the way back? I'd been trying to ignore the fact we had to get back across the river and it had already started to cool down. Ah well, its not like we had a choice in the matter now is it and at least I'd have a handy place to hang me coat until my nipples warmed up again.

One of the key things on tours like this is that everyone jumps in and helps with everything, from collecting firewood to preparing food. I'm not used to Proper Food, I'm used to getting all my major food groups from goon, I wasn't sure my body would know what to do with all these nutrients and I was starting to get withdrawals from the additives and preservatives. Still, I did my best though ay, I didn't do too badly.

I mean, normally I'm fucked if it doesn't come in a packet with the word "noodles" stamped across it.

The Kimberley: Day 1

2007-07-17T21:06:00.000+08:00

I was determined not to get too pissed the night before this tour on account of the fact I had to socialise with a load of people I'd never met before the next day and I generally find this easier to do when I'm not vomiting on them. I was going to drink mid-strength beer and I'd be in bed before midnight and Loody was going to help me accomplish this.

So those plans went out of the window with the bottle of cheap wine and the Jim Beam. Everybody who could make it out to say bye did an all which I wasn't expecting, a few people had to work the next day plus its a mission from the MCG into the Last Resort where I was staying for my last night because dammit, I hadn't slept in a proper bed since Perth and I wanted some comfort before heading into the bush.

Loving The Luxury.... Saying Bye.... No, I Can't Remember Why The Goodbye Messages Were Written On My Leg
Ok so I gotta say I was surprised to see a bus full of old people when it finally rocked up but fair enough, they must be ok to do a tour like this, sleeping under the stars and not showering for a bit and to be fair I felt about 75 (Dick's age) that particular morning anyway as I stumbled onto the bus and collapsed at the back, clutching my aching head.
It was definitely going to be different to Heading Bush where we made our way through the outback, terrorising other tour groups and generally being feral but hey, it was going to be amazing, I was going to spend 12 days being chauffeured around, shown cool things, taken to awesome places and being fed things that weren't noodles or tinned spaghetti three times a day.

We stopped at a couple of places on the way to our first camp at Windjana Gorge. We saw the Prison Boab tree which is where they held the Aboriginals they'd kidnapped to use in the pearling industry when they were on the way to Derby. Yep, the pearling industry didn't always have backpackers queuing up to get seasick or scabs or bits of shell embedded in their flesh and y'know what, every time I dodge a bottle thrown by an Aborigine or try and ignore a torrent of verbal I'll remember things like this tree and I'll remember who fucked them up in the first place.

Prison Boab.... The Gibb River Road.... Tunnel Creek
Anyway, we got to Windjana Gorge along the famous Gibb River Road, picked up our last member, Isabelle, set up camp and headed into Tunnel Creek which is a walk through a cave. You need a torch, footwear you don't mind getting wet and a liberal definition of "thermal" which is what Glen, our tour guide kept telling us the water was.

Bollocks. It was freezing cold and he'd told us the water would come up to our shins. As the icy water inched above my knees I decided that Glen skipped human biology at school.

Later on, after we'd been fed all kinds of crazy things such as Meat and Vegetables and Things With Nutrients we headed through the gorge in the dark and down to Lennard River. Loads of freshwater crocodiles live there but the best time to see them is at night. Well, their eyes anyway, if you shine a torch into the river it reflects off their eyes and all you see are all these bright yellow pairs of dots. They might be placid compared to the salties but whilst it looks proper cool I wouldn't be getting too close, especially not after blinding them in the name of entertainment.

We spent some time after that just lying in the sand on our backs looking at the sky, watching shooting stars. I'll never get bored of the sky over here when you're out in the bush or the outback. Nothing can prepare you for it when you first see it and every time you see it it feels like the first time. It's just breathtaking.

So yeah, day one was cool, my tour group were alright an all and Pam helped me finish the half a bottle of $4 wine I had left over from the previous night and that was it for booze until the next bottle shop which was a few days away. How would I cope?

Pam's cool, she's a terribly English lass in her 70's from Kent who's standard response to everything from "the kettle's on" to "the comet has changed course and we've just averted Armageddon" was "Oh good." She's a retired doctor and anesthetist from the days when they used to use chloroform on kids when they were having their tonsils out.

Ah, chloroform. Every school should have some.

What The Fuck??

2007-07-16T12:12:00.000+08:00

So it rained last night.

Rained.

In Broome!

During the height of the Dry!

Just my fucking luck!

Cape Leveque

2007-07-15T20:54:00.000+08:00

I wasn't about to live in Broome for 2 months and not head up the Dampier Peninsula at least once to check out Cape Leveque. I was adamant that the Falcon could do the 200km 4WD recommended dirt and sand road but after Mick at work handed me a tow rope with the words "You'll probably need this then" I decided to go with Darragh and Jon-O in Darragh's Lada.

Please do not adjust your sets.

I said Lada.

He paid $450 for it a few weeks ago and apparently it runs on love unlike the Falcon which runs on unleaded which you can't get up the peninsula at the weekend. In fact, you're hard pushed to get anything up the peninsula, alcohol included so we stocked up on booze and a couple of jerry cans of fuel and began the trek.

The best way to do an unsealed road is with two blokes that don't mind ragging it over the corrugations, it was an awesome ride up although most of my carefully decanted goon ended up on the ceiling of the car, over the back of the head rest in front and all over me. Ah well, everything I own smells of goon anyway, its hard to hold a glass (ok, dirty beer bottle picked up off the floor) straight after a few rounds.

We were basically only going to visit Neil and Becky in their serene, calm, idyllic environment at the Kooljaman Resort, an Aboriginal owned holiday village right at the top of the peninsula at Cape Leveque.

Ah well, someone had to upset the balance eventually. Oh come on, we didn't know they'd get arsey for transporting one of their staff down to the beach on the bonnet of the Russian Hummer in full resort uniform.

We hadn't really made plans, all we knew was that we were going to head to a salt lake for the night then have breakfast on the beach at One Arm Point, a nearby Aboriginal settlement. Neil decided not to join us, something about preferring to sleep in a nice, cosy bed as opposed to a Lada in the freezing cold and having a perfectly good kitchen to cook breakfast in in the morning.

Meh, some people have no sense of adventure.

Cape Leveque Road.... Breakfast On The Beach With Lumpy The Lost Dog.... Cruising Down To The Beach
It was fun anyways and awesome to see them again. And and and! I even got to drive some of the way back down! I've never driven a 4WD before, I should never be allowed to own one. I'm already convinced the Falcon can go places it can't.

Put me in a 4x4 and I can go anywhere!

Clipper Pearls Was Brought To You By The Letter Tea

2007-07-13T13:16:00.001+08:00

After only a couple of weeks I'm a bit gutted to be leaving Clipper Pearls, their work ethic suited my addiction to tea, abject laziness and aversion to Actual Work down to the ground. Getting a Proper Job is going to be a shock to the system but at least I can say I worked in the pearl industry in Broome and all without getting infected.

Anyways, as from Tuesday I'm off through the Kimberleys on a 12 day 4WD drive tour. I won't have mobile phone signal until I get back to Broome and no internet until probably Kununurra which means no Hotmail, no blogging and certainly none of that new found addiction, Facebook

The horror!

I'm sure the withdrawal symptoms will wear off soon.

And damn you all for getting me into this Facebook thing! Damn you all to cyber hell! I resisted for so long but you all know I'm weak and easily swayed by peer pressure so you kept on pestering and pestering until finally I set one up and before you know it I'm uploading photos and leaving messages and generally Keeping In Touch.

Well there goes hours of my life I can't get back. Just you wait. I'll get my own back.

Just as soon as I work out if there's a Beat Your Friends With A Big Facebook Stick application I can add...

Hot Days, Party Nights

2007-07-10T13:44:00.000+08:00

Fuck Friday and Saturday nights, there are three nights to be seen out in Broome and they're all on a school night. Great. They thought that out properly then.

Sunday - Crab Races A@ The Beer And Satay Hut
This is only good for a couple of weeks before you learn the Crab Man's banter off by heart and start wishing him harm. It's a good atmosphere in this pub anyway, I like it here and not least because it's right next door to where I live, I also like it coz the beer is cheap.

Anyway, I digress.

Me, Loody And The Crab Man.... And They're Off!.... Crazy Crab Races
Tickets are $2 or 3 for $5 but you're not guaranteed a crab.

It's worth a look if for the chance to buy a t-shirt that says "I Got Crabs In Broome."

Monday - Roeyoke @ Oasis Bar
Yep, it's everyones favourite until they see the videos the next day; Kareoke.

Dave And Loody ~~Butcher~~ Sing Bryan Adams' Summer Of '69. You'll Need Sound For This Video... On Second Thoughts, It's Probably Best If You Don't
I don't think I need say anymore.

Thurday - Wet T-Shirt Competition @ Oasis Bar (Titty Comp)
Don't bother entering this if someone from the MCG is on stage, there's more of us than there is of you and our girl is guaranteed to walk away with the $500 prize money.

Boobies. Heh heh.

It's free entry for girls and $5 if you happen to own a penis that doesn't detatch and stash under the bed.

What? You wanted some kind of intelligent and well worded write up? What do you think this is? The fucking Daily Telegraph?

*drools*

Another New Job

2007-07-06T20:42:00.000+08:00

Oh come on, you all know I'm incapable of holding anything down for more than 2 weeks before I get bored. The gardening job was starting to get to me, I was so over mowing lawns and being attacked by vegetation and every time I saw a pile of leaves it depressed me so I got a job with Dave in the Clippers Pearls yard which gives me access to all kinds of exciting things such as a kettle, a puppy to play with, people to talk to and a toilet with three frogs that live in the u-bend.

I do feel a bit guilty about pissing on the frogs but hey, when you gotta go you gotta go and they don't seem too perturbed by it. I'm more worried about the use of cleaning chemicals, what if they have an adverse effect on the frogs? What if they mutate resulting in the Kimberleys being ruled by the iron albeit webbed fist of the evil Lord Ribbit and his minion, Captain Croak?

I digress.

I will now see out my time in Broome fixing panels with cable ties, what with me being the expert that I am after me and Sarah lashed the grandstand at Burswood Dome together with cable ties and gaffa tape.

The yard is run entirely on Broome time. Work starts when the supervisor finally shows up to let us in and the kettle's boiled. A 10 minute break takes 20 minutes and we get three breaks a day.

People To Talk To.... The Exciting World Of Panels.... Cybo The Puppy
They keep trying to get me out on the pearl boats though which totally doesn't appeal to me for two reasons. The first being, I currently sacrifice 8.5 hours of my day and they give me $130 minus tax in return for essentially drinking tea and chatting shit. The other day they asked me to go out on the day trips, sacrifice 11.5 hours a day of my precious time during which they will expect me to actually earn my wages and all for a mere $20 a day extra.

Get. Fucked.

The main reason though is that everyone that comes back off the boats after a 12 day trip come back covered in scabs and with bits of shell embedded in their extremities. The sea water in Broome carries a bacteria and you're constantly covered in the shit on the boats so any sores you get will get infected.

I really don't need any more scabs, I've been eaten alive since I got to Broome, I've practically skinned my legs and feet. I can't help it, I scratch the bites in my sleep and there's nothing I can do about it. I wear long trousers to bed and I wrap myself so tightly in my sleeping bag that I shouldn't be able to move, let alone contort myself into insane positions that I do so I can reach my legs with my claws. I wake up hacking at myself and I can't stop because I'm still half asleep and it feels so goooood! The only other option would be sellotaping mittens to my hands but I swear if I did that I'd wake up gnawing on my limbs to satisfy the itching.

And lets face it, scabs aren't gonna help my pulling potential now are they. Come and get me girls.

Don't mind the pus.

Stairway To The Moon

2007-06-03T20:29:00.000+08:00

I was most disappointed when I found out exactly what Broome's Stairway To The Moon actually was. It'd been hyped before but no one had said what it involved so we were surprised when we rocked up and were told it was only once a month. Then we found out;

"Stairway To The Moon is a natural phenomenon caused when the full moon rises over the mud flats at super low tide."

Is that it?!

Oh what the fuck, we live next door to Town Beach which is one of the best places to see it so we might as well have a wander down to check it out, after all there were markets on as well and its Something To Do In Broome. I didn't expect to be overwhelmed, it's only a fucking moon rise init and I've seen a million of them already and... Oh... *jaw hits floor*... Wow.

It blew me away. First, a section of the horizon starts to glow red then this massive ball of fire quickly starts to acsend into the black sky. As it gets higher, smaller and a turns a colour more fitting of the moon it reflects onto the mud flats thus giving the impression of a staircase leading up to the moon. Hence the name. Obviously.

Its fucking awesome but it's notoriously difficult to photograph unless you have a tripod and a camera that costs more than my car. Here's my effort...

Still, "phenomenom" is a bit of a strong word for it, though.

Broome Time

2007-06-01T16:45:00.000+08:00

Arrived: 20/05/07
Leaving: 17/07/07

I'm holed up in the Slow Death that is Broome on account of the fact I decided that if I got a job before Staircase To The Moon I'd stay in Broome and save up for the Kimberleys tour I wanted to do. If not, I'd be off to Darwin the day after the Staircase.

Anyway, I landed me a job with a gardener, I mow lawns, rake leaves and trim hedges and by "trim" I mean butcher in a style made famous by Jack The Ripper in the 1800's. My boss is nice enough, he's an English bloke, he's been away from home since 1973 and solidly proves the theory that you can take the Pom out of England but you can't take the whinge out of the Pom. It's a job anyway, it's cash in hand so I should be able to save enough for this overpriced 4WD adventure then get out of here.

I also work on the markets on Saturday mornings making fruit smoothies and juices so I'm getting something resembling a health food intake (take note, mum) although there's something about working on a market stall that makes you talk like a southerner with a dodgy cock-er-ney accent.

Bitch, Moan, Whinge
In case you haven't guessed I'm not Broome's biggest fan, it was never part of my plan to stay here until I found this tour, I was going to head straight to Darwin and spend a few months there. It doesn't help that I never wanted to leave Perth in the first place, I guess that any town I spent any time in after the West Coast road trip was doomed from the start for simply not being Perth. For the first time in Australia it doesn't feel right, I feel a bit lost and confused, like I'm treading water or wasting time, I feel like I'm in some sort of limbo, waiting for something to fall into place.

I miss Perth and the people I left there so much it actually hurts, I think about going back every day, even if its just for a weekend but I think it would be the wrong thing to do, I think I want to go back for the wrong reasons and it would be too different.

The Broome Crew
I'm staying at Roebuck Caravan Park in an unpowered section called the MCG (Mango Camping Ground), known to every one else in the park as the Festival Site on account of the fact it looks like a scaled down Glastonbury (minus the mud and medieval diseases people contract from being soaked in water for three days), the dope smoking and the loud music.
I like living here, its like an outdoor hostel but I'm over camping now. I love it when I'm travelling but when I'm settled somewhere I want a proper bed and a powerpoint for my laptop and a light switch but I'm paying $69 pw here. A hostel would be over $150 pw so my choice is live here and leave sooner or live in a hostel and probably miss out on Darwin.

Killing time in Broome invariably involves alcohol, it has to, there's not much else to do but it's hindered by one painful fact; Goon is illegal here. Oh you can get 2 litre casks but you're looking at $11 and when you've been paying that price for 4 litres it's gutting. This also means that games like Goon Rugby and Goon Volleyball and other games involving an inflated 4 litre goon pillow are out of the question so we've had to resort to Intelligent Conversation and Making New Friends.

The thing is, I'm surrounded by friends, old and new. The weather is amazing considering it's winter, it touches the late 20s every day. My tour is booked, I know when I'm leaving, I'm earning money and saving enough to get to Darwin comfortably.

So what the fuck is wrong with me?!

Things That Can Kill You #5

2007-05-24T20:26:00.000+08:00

There are two kinds of crocs in the north of Australia. Freshwater crocs are harmless to humans, they just mind their own business and live together in peace and harmony.

Fucking hippies.

It's saltwater crocs we're interested in, they have been known to take humans and they're clever bastards an all, they watch for patterns in behaviour so if you go fishing at the same spot every day it'll wait for you and attack. However, they'll always go for the thing least likely to fight so it's important to pack a dog or a small child in the boot of your car when you head out to catch lunch.

The Malcolm Douglas Crocodile Farm in Broome houses some big bastard salties that had to be removed from their natural habitat when they started "making a nuisance of themselves." Y'know, scaring old ladies and eating people and the like. They run tours at 11am but 3am is feeding time. Now that's what I'm talking about and it's only $20 if you're a backpacker.

Ominous.... Feeding Time.... Steve Irwin Moment
It's an ideal way to dispose of bodies and they even let you hold a baby croc at the end.

I feel so Steve Irwin.

Things That Can Kill You #4

2007-05-23T16:56:00.000+08:00

Ahh, Cable Beach, Broome's saving grace. With its vast sands, warm ocean and perfect sunsets you have to cut Broome some slack and think that maybe, just maybe it isn't that bad.

Unless its October to May when a quick dip might just get you landed in hospital with a box jellyfish wrapped around your tender parts.

In order to make the most of our unemployment whilst all our friends were slaving away, me and Darragh rocked up to the beach today and were greeted with a large yellow sign saying, "Stingers!" and a man in a full, thick wetsuit handing out leaflets letting us know exactly why we weren't allowed in the water. I can't believe they actually have to go out of their way to convince people, a simple, "If you go in the water you might die and if you don't die you will experience the worst pain known to man" would have done it for me. Literature isn't neccesary.

Irukandji inhabit the sea in northern Australia but places like Cairns have stinger nets. Places like Broome expect you to deal with it, like they have so much else going for them.

That's it. I want to live in a town where going for a swim isn't an extreme sport.

Anthem!

2007-05-21T17:41:00.000+08:00

The Tune We Kept WA Awake With For The Duration Of The SW Loop And All The Way Up To Broome. Try Playing It On Repeat And Out Of Tune For The Full Effect

West Coast Day 19: End Of The Road... And The Goon

2007-05-20T13:39:00.000+08:00

This is the first sign you see as you enter Broome.

Oh what, like they couldn't have told us this sooner?

Like at the last fucking bottle shop maybe?!

West Coast day 18: Not My Lucky Day

2007-05-19T13:36:00.000+08:00

Despite the copious amounts of sleep I got, leaving Karratha proved more difficult that expected on account of the minor car accident I was involved in.

It was my fault, I pulled out when I shouldn't have, I didn't see the girl's car because I couldn't see out of my back window on account of all the swags and bags and general crap and Craig's head was blocking my side window. But still, it was my fault and she went into the side of me. Fortunately the Falcon is the closest thing you can get to a tank without it actually being a tank so despite the almighty crashing noise that occurred there's practically no damage to my car and no one was hurt at all. Shaken, but not hurt.

Her car however got slightly twisted, I'm insured though so it only cost my excess, $400, and in the words of the girl from AAMI, "It's out of your hands, we'll deal with everything from here on in."

Fuck I love AAMI.

We were going to get to Broome in two parts staying at a free camp tonight. We drove until it was dark, marvelling at the pretty glow of the bush fire up ahead. It was a big fire. Biiiiig fire. We got closer and closer until we got to Pardoo Roadhouse, the fire was in a paddock just over the road. We pulled into to servo and I jumped out for a chat with a guy who was sat on the step of the shop smoking a cigarette.

Me: Hiya mate, whats the go with that big fire over there?
Bloke: *shrugs* Guess someones having a big BBQ.
Me: Riiiight. Should we go and join 'em?
Bloke: I reckon. Could probably fit a fair few snags on there.

He took one last drag on his fag and idly flicked the butt towards the bowser.

Bloke: As long as it doesn't come over here it should be right.

I retreated to the safety of the shop where there were toilets and pies and maybe people who shared my concern over naked flames near petrol pumps.

I asked the lass behind the counter if she thought the fire would spread.

Lass: *shrugs* Well its been there two days.
Me: K. So you reckon its safe to camp round here tonight?
Lass: Meh... Should be.

Despite her words of comfort we decided to keep on driving a further 80 or so kms to 80 Mile Beach and a free camp near there where we were attacked by moths intent on drinking all our goon.

Hey man, fuck with me if you gotta but leave my goon out of it yeah?

West Coast Day 17: Guided Tour Of Karratha

2007-05-18T13:35:00.000+08:00

Today was cool, we got to relax as Julie and her fella took us out in their troopy and gave us a guided tour of Karratha, Dampier and Cossack, The Pilbarra's first town which is now abandoned. It was nice just to kick back and let some one else decide where to go.

Julie just kept on knocking up amazing meals, we had a full cooked brekky both mornings we woke up there and wicked dinners. Proper spoilt, we were.

I wasn't on form here though, I'd been having trouble staying asleep the past few nights which fucks me up. I need my sleep or people aside from me start to suffer so I was in bed pretty early tonight while the others had a few drinks and played some cards.

I'd be fresh and ready the next morning, right?

...Right?

West Coast Day 16: Take A Deep Breath

2007-05-17T13:29:00.000+08:00

Wittenoom is officially abandoned on account of the "asbestos fibres prevalent in the air." I say officially abandoned, try telling that to the 25 people who still live there, firmly denying that the mining of blue asbestos in years gone by would pose any threat to them or tourists. My fold out maps advised against going anywhere near the place and the Lonely Planet says if you go there you might want to wind your windows up.

Well how are you meant to buy souvenirs without getting out of the car?

It was on the way anyway so we pulled in, did a quick circuit and took a few deep breaths before heading north to Karratha with newly acquired stickers that read, "I Went To Wittenoom And Lived."

I'll remember this moment in roughly 10 to 15 years when my lungs fall out.

There are two roads to Karratha from Auski Roadhouse, one of them is about 400km along the tarmac and the other is more direct, about 300km along a slightly corrugated unsealed road. We took the dirt.

Wittenoom.... It Looks Like This Aaaall The Way.... Orange Loody; What Happens When You Eat My Dust With The Windows Down
What a boring fucking road! All you want to do is read a book or something but you can't on account of the whole Having To Drive thing. There's no let up in the monotony, we probably saw about 3 other vehicles the entire way plus the corrugations don't make it the most pleasant drive ever. I wished I still had my clit hood pierced, at least then I could have driven the road with a smile on my face.

Apart from a minor incident in the Millstream National Park when I nearly span off the road after lecturing Craig on the dangers of not wearing a seatbelt we rocked up to Karratha in once piece where we'd be spending a couple of nights. Craig's sister Julie lives here, he hardly gets to see her so we chilled at their house which was awesome, we got fed and got to sleep inside and had proper showers and did all kinds of exciting things such as laundry. I hadn't done laundry since Albany.

My clothes practically walked to the washer.

West Coast Day 15: Karijini National Park

2007-05-16T13:27:00.000+08:00

Karijini National Park is only good if you like that sort of thing. Y'know, like stunning views and refreshing water holes and beautiful waterfalls and the like. We only spent a day here though, we wished we could have stayed longer but we were on a deadline for Karratha.

And and and! Guess what? You won't guess so I'll tell ya. Just as we were heading to the first gorge we bumped into the Get Away team (Aussie holiday show sort of thing). Now this would be infinitely more exciting if a) I watched TV at all, b) I'd seen Get Away and c) if I could remember the name of the presenter guy who I had my photo taken with. It's on Becky's camera, but. I need to get it off her.

But still, mingling with celebrities, us. We watched as they maneuvered $1000's worth of equipment through freezing water on lilos before moving onto the next place.

There's not much to actually say, it's one of those Had To Be There things. You basically navigate your way through the park's unsealed road, stopping at gorges for a swim and lookouts for oohing and ahhing. We didn't have time for any of the walks but to be fair movement never really suited us. Fortescue Falls were amazing an all, we spent quite a bit of time there until we realised there were tiny leeches in the falls. Nice. A quick dip and a blood transfusion, you just don't get that down the local swimming pool do ya.

That night we stayed at Auski Roadhouse (Munjina) for camping, they gave us a powered site for the price of an unpowered one. Luxury! What could we use it for?

A quick inventory of all our Stuff With Plugs later and we whipped out Becky's hair straighteners and began ironing the curls out of Darragh's hair. Yeah, I know Darragh hasn't got curly hair.

Not on his head anyway.

West Coast Day 14: Disturbing The Peace

2007-05-15T16:49:00.000+08:00

We wanted a full day in Karijini so we'd decided to spend tonight at a free camp near Tom Price and get an early start on the park the next day. The trouble was we didn't know how to spend today but I'd developed a habit of handing my map book and a highlighter to other travellers who'd been where we were going and someone had highlighted Hammersley Gorge so we stocked up on supplies and headed there for the afternoon armed with a bag of goon, an iPod and some speakers.

Hammersley Gorge is wicked, its a perfect place to disturb the peace. I have to admit, the water is a wee bit chilly but once you've apologised in advance for potentially knocking people out with your nipples you can relax and just enjoy the tunes, the goon and the company.

By the time we got off the unsealed road that lead away from the gorge it was dark and I couldn't find the first free site option so we headed to a place called Halfway Bridge where I circled round a tree. I realised the car wasn't actually going anywhere and there was a somewhat disconcerting grinding noise.

That would be the six large rocks in a ditch I'd managed to drive into then. There was a 4WD and a caravan on another corner of the site so we figured that if it came to it maybe they'd tow us out after most of the rocks had been pulled out. We sent Craig over to talk to the guy with the words, "Go on, you're Australian, it'll sound better coming from you."

It didn't. The guy was an arse. We managed to get the rocks out the next day anyway and the Falcon had enough power to pull itself out but where had I heard those words before...?

"Go on, you're Australian..."

Oh yeah, that's right. Wolf Creek.

West Coast Day 13: Nothing Interesting Happened Today

2007-05-14T16:47:00.000+08:00

We'd decided to head inland after Exmouth to check out Karijini National Park. It's somewhere around 700km to Tom Price, the nearest town to Karijini so we just did it in two trips and spent tonight at a free camp.

I woke up to Becky and Craig hurridly packing and asked what was going on, it wasn't like Becky to be up early, she usually needed gentle coaxing and usually from a distance with a cup of tea, full body armour and a big stick.

Becky: We have to leave. Now.
Me: Why?

I didn't recall being that loud last night.

Becky: We robbed the combi...
Me: *blinks* You did what now??

We'd found an orange VW camper abandoned on the side of the road and Becky wanted the badge off the front of it so we'd duly rocked up and taken it. This apparently wasn't enough, we'd managed to persuade her not to steal the actual van on account of her not being able to steer a fucking paddleboat, let alone a vehicle but she wanted the contents and after I'd passed out they'd all decided they wanted the contents too. They got chairs, clothes, cushions and Darragh got himself a hammock.

The rest of the day was uneventful, the highlight being watching Darragh hang his new hammock and promptly fall through it.

West Coast Day 12: Whale Sharks!

2007-05-13T16:42:00.000+08:00

When I were but a wee bairn, much longer ago than I'd care to let on *narrows eyes at younger but by no means better looking friends* I liked reading books about dinosaurs and animals and sea creatures and stuff. I remember a particular photo in a book and the paragraph of text next to it. I don't remember the name of the book, just this segment, it was about a quarter of the page and it was a photo of a whale shark next to a diver. I even remember what some of the text said, it mentioned that an adult whale shark could easily fit two adult humans in its mouth but they were harmless filter feeders, eating only plankton and krill.

And that's when I decided I wanted to swim with them.

About 20 years later and I was sat at a computer in a hostel in Echuca, typing "whale shark australia" into Google and 3 Islands Marine Charters came up along with numerous other companies that ran tours to snorkel with the world's largest fish at Ningaloo Reef, Exmouth. The best time to go was May, I was meant to be in New South Wales the following May and Emma didn't want to budge on that. Fortunately we split up a couple of months later and it was sealed; I was going to be in Exmouth in May 2007 and I was going to swim with whale sharks.

Us... The Boat.... The Crew
I was chuffed to pieces when the others decided they were going to do this with me, after all its not cheap and we were all on a budget, I'd been budgeting for this for months and so had Loody since I'd told her about it in Perth. It was kinda sprung on the others but they were up for it.

This was going to be amazing.

We were picked up from the campsite at 7.30am by Andy, the videographer, who greeted us with the words, "You're a lucky lot aren't you, getting a private charter!" It was only going to be us, the crew and enough food to feed a small army on board today. Andy had said to the lass who prepared the food that there were 5 of us, not 15. She said we'd looked hungry :) Fuck I love my life.

Bless Andy, he tried to liven us up on the bus journey to the boat. He's actually quite funny once it's not 7.30 anymore and you've been fed but until then his enthusiasm and banter was more likely to get him maimed or killed. We stopped to pick up Kelly, the divemaster whos job it was to spot the whale sharks once we were in the water and to make sure we knew where it was so we could swim with it. That was the eye candy for the day sorted then, you wouldn't kick her out of bed for eating crisps.
We got to the little boat and met Noz, a shy bloke who would be driving the safety boat (do you drive boats? I don't even know) which would pick us out of the water if we were in trouble or too tired to swim. We met Richard, the skipper and the guy who owns the company once we got to the big boat and then we were off to a little snorkel site.

I don't have anything witty or clever to say about today, it was just awesome. We spent the morning snorkelling and eating before the spotter planes radioed in that a shark had been seen.

I'd researched these tours ages ago and read all kinds of testimonies. You share the shark with about 4 other boats and only 10 people are allowed in the water at a time. You can usually fit about 20 people on a boat so I was prepared for the fact that we might only get a few minutes with one shark and thats it and I'd made sure the others knew this too.

We got in the water with 6 sharks.

Six!

Some people don't even get one and we got six!

It's amazing, you can't describe the feeling, you launch yourself into the water and stick your head under looking for it then the first thing you see is this massive gob coming towards you and your heart leaps into your mouth closely followed by the rest of your internal organs.
Then you realise you should probably get out of its way on account of it being about 10 metres long and thus a lot bigger than you. The excitement never wears off.

Loooooong Video! About 12 Minutes, A Full 8 Minutes Longer Than The Average Attention Span Of An Internet User... Hey... Where You Going...?
Later, as we headed back about 30 dolphins swam alongside the boat. We'd been stuffed full of good food, had a once in a lifetime day out in the water and I'd fulfilled a lifetime ambition.

How fucking perfect could this day get?

I promptly tripped over the edge of the little boat as we pulled up to shore and ended up face down on the shore line.

.................................................................................................................
I knew Abi and Dave were doing the West Coast, I just didn't know where they were on account of the fact we'd never been in range at the same time, we just kept picking up voicemails and texts from each other. When we got back from the trip there was a note at our site, they'd checked into the campsite and recognised my car. Kliff and Neil came round later an all and we made up for the lack of goon the night before until I pulled my usual passing out trick.

Oh come on, its not like no one knows what happens when I'm allowed to lie down.

Perth Crew
Loody, Darragh, Kliff, Neil, Abi, Me, Becky, Dave

West Coast Day 11: Happy Anniversary

2007-05-12T16:32:00.000+08:00

It was exactly a year ago today that I landed in Australia, was fetched from the airport by John and Dom at 6.45am and proceeded to drag a traumatised and shattered Emma round Brisbane so we could buy SIM cards, open bank accounts and laugh in the face of jetlag. Oh come on, its not my fault she can't sleep on planes on account of the abject terror now is it.

I would have loved to have celebrated the same way I'd celebrated my arrival in the country, that is copious amounts of disco and booze, but we were going to be spending the next day on a boat on the open sea and paying $330 for the privilege so instead we did that other thing we do so well; As little as possible on a beautiful beach.

Coral Bay is awesome but not somewhere you'd want to spend a few days unless you were working or made of money, its shockingly expensive, like, incomprehensibly expensive, as in you'd probably have to take out a second mortgage just to feed yourself for a week. The others headed to the beach while I headed to a pay phone to book us onto a campsite in Exmouth and onto a whale shark tour. I managed to get us on for the next day, a Sunday, with a small amount of coaxing and the promise of five people on the boat.

Nice one bruva.

It was weird leaving Perth and going on a mission without Kliff, we'd already done the Great Ocean Road together and then, just as we thought we'd parted company, we hit the Nullabor together with Tim and made it to Perth. But the South West Loop and the West Coast had to be done without him, him and Neil were off working on a cattle station near Carnarvon and they were out of mobile phone range so we couldn't even catch up with them when we were in the area.
Never mind though ay, everyone follows the backpacker trail, no doubt we'd bump into each other again somewhere along the way, it was never going to be goodbye with me and Kliff, just until we meet again.

I was mincing about checking out the coral and the sea turtles, making sure I didn't swim too far out in case the spotter planes mistook my arse for a whale shark and people tried to snorkel with it when Loody swam up with someone I didn't recognise on account of the snorkel mask. It took me a few seconds.

Kliff! And Neil was here too, sprawled on the beach pulling his usual Forgetting He's Ginger trick and slowly turning red.

They'd quit the cattle station because for some reason shovelling dead, rotting cows into a heap for burning didn't appeal to them too much and they were spending their last dollars on fuel to get them up the coast to find work. We had to make it to Exmouth for 6pm to check into the site and pay for the whale shark tour so they tagged onto our little convoy and we made our way up the peninsula stopping only to take photos of the massive termite mounds and a Big Prawn (see post below) which was a similar colour to what Neil had turned.

We stayed off the goon and got an early night, we were going to be picked up at some obscene hour the next day and bundled onto a boat where we'd be expected to swim very fast with something significantly larger than us with fins and a big tail and the ability to breathe under water. The entire timing for the West Coast trip had been based around this moment and I'd been planning this for nearly a year.

A hangover wasn't an option.

Big Things #22

2007-05-12T04:12:00.000+08:00

This beast is on the road between Coral Bay and Exmouth and unlike the one in Ballina I think there is actually a reason for it being there, as in the building behind it has something to do with prawns. Not sure what, though.

Still, I reckon the one in Ballina would kick this ones arse in a fight.

West Coast Day 10: A Taste Of Snorkelling To Come

2007-05-11T16:30:00.000+08:00

Not the most eventful day today, we figured we deserved a break from Too Much Driving so we checked out the nearby snorkeling at Quobba Point as previously advised. It was so worth the $11 we were brutally forced to part with the night before.

The Photos Don't Do It Justice, It's Near The Start Of The Ningaloo Reef, Check It Out For Loads Of Cool Fish, Little Stingrays And Heaps Of Coral
We chilled here for the morning before heading to a free camp not too far from Coral Bay because we deserved another relaxing day snorkeling and sunbathing tomorrow.

Well if we were gonna treat us who the fuck else was?

West Coast Day 9: Lessons In Drowning

2007-05-10T16:23:00.000+08:00

The track to Red Bluff is one of those tracks that cause worried passengers to lean over and ask, "You do have a spare tyre, right?"

Of course I have a spare tyre, I even checked it in Perth to make sure it was round and would remain so when stuck to the vehicle. I neglected to mention that I haven't got a fucking clue how to change it but I figured that with two blokes in the convoy one of them would at least pretend to know what they were doing.

First stop up the road is the blowholes, its just where the ocean forces itself through holes in the rocks causing a whole load of spray and a photo opportunity.

We decided that the car park here was where we were gonna camp tonight as there were none of those irritating signs that said we couldn't and with that we headed up the 70km unsealed road to Red Bluff that I'd heard about from a man called Mark who I had a beer with at Rainbow Lodge once. Its a cunt of a road, seriously, its probably the worst road I've ever tried to get the Falcon up and with Loody's Nissan following behind at snail's pace we started to wonder if it was going to be worth the damage to the underside of the cars and the abject boredom endured when you have to negotiate an unsealed road without the aid of goon or power ballads.

Then we rounded the last corner and fuck yes, it was very much worth it.

It's a fucking awesome place to spend an afternoon and a great way to get at least 94% of your RDA of salt as you get repeatedly dumped by the huge waves. They warn you that later on it gets sucky in the sea and you have to keep an eye on the peninsula in the distance; If you see a wave clearing that then get the fuck out as fast as you can.

Ok then. No worries. Watch for killer waves and your mates being carried out to sea to their doom. Got it.
Red Bluff was one of those perfect moments, just the five of us on a deserted beach miles from anywhere, hurling ourselves into the waves, body surfing and experimenting with different ways of potentially drowning. A classic I Love My Life moment.

Red Bluff.... It's Advisable To Get Your Mates Out Of The Hole You Buried Them In Before The Tide Starts Coming In.... Back At The Blowholes For Sunset
We made it back for sunset, set up camp and started drinking before a man on a quad bike rocked up and asked us what we were doing here. Becky jumped to the rescue responding quickly, "Eating...?"

Oh. Nice one Becky. Sticky situation averted!

He asked us if we were intending to stay the night, I asked if we were allowed, he said technically no but he didn't give a fuck, he was just going to charge us the going rate of $5.50 per site and we could stay where we were. Oh ok, so it wasn't going to break the bank so we opened our wallets and after fending off the moths we handed over the cash for two sites and he advised us to check out the beach and the snorkeling at the nearby official campsite in the morning.

In hindsight the official campsite would probably have been a better idea than camping near huge jets of sea water that sent a fine spray over everything nearby every time they shot into the air.

Ah well, live and learn.

Dry out. Live. Learn.

West Coast Day 8: Big Things #21

2007-05-09T19:10:00.000+08:00

300km after too much vodka and four hours sleep plus we couldn't pull over for a nap because as soon as you stopped the flies took up residence in your orifices. It's a fucking good job I'm easily amused by large, phallic objects like the Big Banana, Carnarvan or today would have been a write off.

Come to think of it, for a lesbian I'm far too easily amused by phallic objects.

West Coast Day 7: Not The Only Gays In The Resort

2007-05-08T16:07:00.000+08:00

It was about 6.45am when I woke the others up for Dolphin O' Clock, we were here for the dolphins and damnit, I wasn't going to let a mere thumping headache and stomach churning waves of nausea stop us. Kitted out with a camera and the grim determination not to collapse before breakfast we made our way to the beach with the rest of the tourist circus.

The dolphins rock up at about 7am and about 4 of them are in the feeding program. They take ages to get them into the program because they have to make sure that they won't be adversely affected by it and they don't give them a full day's quota of fish because they want to make sure the dolphins remain self sufficient. In days gone by they used to let you touch and swim with the dolphins but they stopped that when they started biting tourists so they put a stop to it about 6 years ago. These days they ask you to stand well back and out of the water when they start feeding, only the rangers and the lucky few picked out of the crowd to hand the fish to the dolphins are allowed in.

Monkey Mia Tourist Circus.... You Laughing At Me?.... Yep, That's My Vast Arse Stuck In The Air As I Interfere With Nature And Feed A Dolphin
And this is where standing out like a spare prick at a wedding comes in handy. Ok, so I've been turned down for jobs and people stare and cross the road to avoid me but hey, I'm noticeable, you can't miss me and if anyone is going to be picked out of a crowd it was going to be me.

*grins*

Proper happy with that and it was definitely worth being turned down for that job decorating Christmas trees when I was 18.

After a breakfast of fried potatoes and a quick excursion to Denham for supplies the rest of the day was spent chilling at the resort and drinking aforementioned supplies. The previous night after I'd passed out Loody had found some lesbians to play with, Maria, Jaime and Emma, who all work at Monkey Mia. Jaime and Emma are a couple and work in the kitchen and bar respectively and Maria works on reception. They'd invited us to join them at some hot springs up the road at the Francois Peron National Park that night.

Yay, more chances to sit in hot water and get pissed! I was loving this place more and more every minute.

We rocked up to the springs at about 9.30pm when it was pitch black and apparently this is the best time to go because if you saw it in the daylight you wouldn't get in, it's naturally hot bore water pumped into a concrete circle and you can tell when they last cleaned it by how far down you can sink your hands before they disappear. It's also not a good idea to wear white.
Afterwards, Jaime invited us to hers with the promise of a box of Coolabah Fruity Lexia goon she happened to have stashed. When we rocked up she broke out the goon plus a bottle of vodka, some Bundy and something else with a dangerous alcoholic content and told us to help ourselves. This girl had known us five minutes and already knew the way to our hearts. Again I'm unsure of the time when we finally left Denham and headed back to Monkey Mia, the five of us plus Maria crammed into Loody's Nissan with me sprawled along everyone on the back seats being fed goon from the bag by Maria. We stayed up for a bit longer then crashed at some god awful hour when we realised we actually had to drive somewhere tomorrow... actually make it later that day, it was due to be light in a couple of hours.

I fucking love Monkey Mia, me. I totally recommend you spend at least a couple of nights there.

Becky turned round to me the next day and said, "So, did anything happen with you and Maria last night?" Erm... no... she's 46. I mean, she's a good looking lass for a 46 year old but she's old enough to be my mother. Why? What gives you that idea? "You were totally flirting with each other, I thought something was going to happen."

Flirting? Me? I deny all knowledge/ blame the goon. Ah well so what if I was, Darragh says she's bloody good at head massages.

The girl's clearly good with her fingers...

West Coast Day 6: Oh But These Rocks Have A Purpose!

2007-05-07T21:05:00.000+08:00

The Shark Bay area is about 130km up a peninsula that has loads of side roads where you can pull over and marvel at... well... pretty stuff. Loody had heard about Hamelin Pool, the first turn off after the highway so we dutifully drove down and checked it out.
It's the home of the stromatolites which are apparently responsible for a whole lot of the world's oxygen and if it wasn't for them then oxygen breathing lifeforms such as us wouldn't have evolved. Let's be honest, they aint much to look at but if you actually consider what they are then they're impressive and they're millions of years old. If you check them out when the tide is in apparently you can see the little bubbles of oxygen they produce.

Wow, I can't believe I managed to construct an entire paragraph about rocks. I'm proper getting into the Aussie spirit, just hand me a shrimp and a barbie to chuck it on and I'm away.

You have a choice of two areas to stay in here, Denham is a proper town with phone signal and supermarkets and it has a hostel and other places to stay. About 25km from there is the Monkey Mia Dolphin Resort which is where the dolphins come to visit for feeding time every morning so we decided to stay there for a couple of nights.

Monkey Mia is fucking cool, it's $6 each to get into the resort (pass is good for 2 nights) then you can choose to camp ($12 per person per night) or there's a backpackers or cabins. They also have a little shop on the resort, an awesome self catering kitchen, a restaurant and a bar, a pool and a spa plus the beach and the dolphin interaction centre. For the first time I really felt like I was on holiday, we didn't feel like we were roughing it here at all despite still camping, I mean, it's a resort for fucks sake.

A resort!

I'd never stayed in a resort in my adult life before, I felt so posh, the urge to decant goon into a wine bottle was almost overwhelming.

Top: Stromatolites; Living Rocks.... Darragh; Lovin' It
Bottom: Monkey Mia.... Goon Bag Games.... Chilling In The Spa
This was pretty much the first place we'd stopped where the sea had been warm enough to have a proper frolic so I cunningly hid the map that had the words "Beach Access; Please Note That Sharks Are Often Spotted In The Bay" so no one would freak out. Oh come on, sharks? In Shark Bay? Who'd have thunk it? After an afternoon on the beach reflecting on what a hard life we lead we headed to the bar before me and Becky decided to check out the spa. We were somewhat apprehensive about getting into water at this time of night when it was starting to cool down, remember, May is autumn going into winter in this part of the world. It only took one toe in the water to realise that this was where we'd be spending the evening so we fetched some towels, the others and copious amounts of goon and spent the ensuing hours singing, splashing and playing a game with an inflated goon bag that involved clinging onto it while the others spun you round.

Hmm, copious amount of alcohol combined with spinning round in circles. Obviously we never thought this one through properly.

I'm not sure what time it was when we got thrown out of the spa nor do I remember going to bed. I must have pulled my trademark passing out trick because the next thing I knew it was morning and the neighbours were ranting about the inconsiderate, loud bastards that woke the camp up last night.

Wow, I must have been tired, they never woke me up ay.

West Coast Day 5: Hungover In Charge Of A Power Boat

2007-05-06T21:59:00.000+08:00

After we'd kept the entire camp up all night wailing along to London Underground and singing Irish songs we thought we should make a quick exit the next day before we got lynched, especially as everyone would be up early on account of the hoards of galahs sat on the telephone wires over the road making more noise than we had. A galah sandwich would have gone down well for breakfast that day. Oh come on, I mean, we didn't get to sleep until late either...

We'd decided yesterday that we'd hire a little power boat today and head up the Murchison River to do some fishing, its only something like $90 for 4 hours so despite the weather not being great we all chucked $20 and that got us the boat and a load of bait. We just made sure we took warm clothes, a few tins of sketti and a healthy dose of optimism. Forgot the bloody goon though didn't we and everyone knows that goon aids fishing as well as keeping you warm.

There's all kinds of things to hire here, from powerboats to paddleboats and you can hire them for one hour to a full day. When we hired our boat he took the $90 plus a $20 returnable deposit. Deposit? For what? Even if there was any way we could rob off into the ocean with a tin can that didn't go much faster than a jogging pace would $20 really cover the loss?

Kalbarri Wake Up Call.... Who The Fuck Let Her Drive?!.... Not Quite Lunch
We piled into the boat which had a number 13 ominously painted onto the outboard. I made sure I knew the exact location of the life jackets when Darragh handed control of the steering over to Becky. We maneuvered the boat over some shallow parts and rocks that we weren't meant to have crossed before lobbing the anchor over the side and wondering if we were going to be able to pull it back in again. Darragh and Becky caught their first fish ever and Craig caught a blue swimmer crab. We put bands on its claws and poked it a bit, wondering if there was any way it could feed five people before deciding that it was pointless keeping it so after thoroughly traumatising it we chucked it back in.

Ah well, noodles for dinner again then, ay.

After we returned the boat in one piece we headed back onto the highway for some more free camping where we could be as loud and as feral as we wanted without fear of revenge attacks.

West Coast Day 4: Shitting Fucking Bastard Flies

2007-05-05T22:52:00.000+08:00

It is compulsory whilst doing the West Coast to visit Kalbarri National Park, failure to do so will result in being mocked and ridiculed by your peers and people will point and laugh at you in the street so we duly pulled off the highway and followed the loop that runs through the town of Kalbarri, checked into the cheapest campsite in town, Red Bluff, then hit the unsealed track to the national park itself.

One of Kalbarri's most famous landmarks is Nature's Window which marks the beginning of the 4 hour walk called The Loop. Thank fuck it's at the start, it meant we didn't have to bother with the walk because its recommended you take a lot of water and all we'd brought was goon. We just did some contrived "look at us relaxing nonchalantly whilst gazing through the Window" posing for the camera and spent the rest of the time twitching and waving our hands around, interspersing this with outbursts of, "Fuck off, flies!"

Seriously, if you're going to check out Nature's Window and the Z-Bend take a fly net then at least you can relax and enjoy watching the other people wandering round spasming and shouting like spastics with Tourettes. Oh what the fuck take a job lot of 'em and flog them to the fools that forgot to bring one of their own, you'd make a small fortune. Other Great Aussie Business Ideas I've come up with include a sandwich bar halfway up any tourist attraction that involves walking up a hill and a bottle shop at the top of Uluru.

Top: Coastline.... The Z-Bend.... Feel The Love
Bottom: Contrived Posing.... Nature's Window.... Fucking Flies!
After some more driving round, oohing and ahhing at the scenery and further verbal abuse of insects had occurred we headed back to the town as the sun set. Me and Becky had the power ballads blasting and we were shouting along as Craig cowered in the back whimpering, "Watch out for the cows..."

Meh, I had the cows covered and I assured him of this as I swerved to avoid a particularly startled looking bovine.

One of the things that shits me about this country is the signposting or lack thereof. When you get to the end of most unsealed roads all there'll be are some black and white arrows indicating that you need to turn left or right because onwards is no longer an option unless you drive a monster truck or you're feeling particularly adventurous and/or stupid but there's never any help as to which way would be best for you. So I swung a left and carried on driving as Celine Dion informed us at several decibels above what is deemed to be safe for the average eardrum that her heart would indeed go on. Good for you, girl.

It was about 20kms up the sealed road when I noticed Loody was flashing her lights behind us so I pulled over. Apparently she'd been shouting into the two way radio we had since I'd taken the turning, she didn't think we'd gone the right way. I thought about it... this was feasible... we had after all been driving for quite a while since we came off the track, certainly longer than we should have been... oh fuck... no, clearly we weren't going the right way.

Oh come on, its not like we were lost is it, I mean, I knew exactly where we were.

It just wasn't where we were meant to be.

West Coast Day 3: Not Quite Dispelling The Myth That Geraldton Sucks

2007-05-04T21:10:00.000+08:00

On account of the fact we'd been free camping since Perth we decided to spend tonight in Geraldton at a pay camp with all kinds of exciting things like flushing toilets and showers. Ashley, my barman, is from Geraldton and Swoop has something to do with the place an all. Both had told me not to bother with the place but hey, it was on the way and it's somewhere to spend the night init.

HMS Sydney Memorial.... Killing And Afternoon And Some Fish.... Swing; Something To Do With Swoop's Dad, She Said I Had To Check It Out So We Did On Account Of There Being Nothing Else To Do
We checked in to the site and spent the afternoon fishing on account of it being Not Quite Warm Enough for swimming. There's also a memorial to HMS Sydney or something, it's made up of big, metal seagulls, each one representing someone who died on the ship. Why oh why they chose seagulls, the most repulsive creature in the world surpassed by none, not even mozzies or flies or overweight lesbians with an aversion to bras and shaving was beyond us but still, we checked it out and took photos and generally concurred with Ash and Swoop. Geraldton aint worth the effort.

West Coast Day 2: Sandboarding, Rocks And A Crispy Fried Fuckkit

2007-05-03T20:18:00.000+08:00

Lancelin; Has some fucking big piles of sand. There was only one thing for it, fork out $10 for a board so we could spend two hours sliding down them. Or in my case, sitting halfway down the dune making that noise you only make when you accidently bang your tail bone.

I couldn't get past halfway before my bottom half started moving faster than my top half and I ended up landing so hard my anus felt like it had retreated into my lower intestine and gone on strike thus ensuring I'd never shit again. That didn't stop me trying again though... Sandboarding, not shitting that is.

Lets Get Injured!.... My Standard Sandboarding Stance.... Craig; Fucking Show Off
Only Loody and Craig made it to the bottom standing up, the rest of us muttered vague excuses about the boards being dodgy or there not being enough wax on them and of course the sand was still a bit damp from the recent rains and I must have left my sense of balance in England or something and who wants to get to the bottom anyway coz you'd only have to get back up again right? It's good fun though and as it's The Only Thing To Do In Lancelin you should definately give it a go if you're doing the West Coast.

After scraping the sand out of our pockets and various other places it had no right being we handed the boards back in and continued north to Cervantes, home of the Nambung National Park and the Pinnacles Desert.

The Pinnacles are, surprise surprise, some rocks. Its clinically proven that the best way to make rocks interesting is alcohol or sunset and as me and Loody had to drive, sunset it was. We rocked up and paid our $10 per car entrance fee then entered the desert, expecting to see a few rocks sticking out of the ground.

There's thouands of them of varying sizes, it's actually pretty fucking awesome. You can drive though them, park up and go for a wander. There weren't too many people there either, I think all the coach tours are there in the middle of the day, it's an eerie place to be. I'm a cold, cynical bitch, I'm not easily impressed by stuff unless its shiny or has breasts or isn't a rock but I thought it was wicked there and the sunset was cool an all.

In case anyone gives a fuck, they'e formed by limestone and erosion and something about quartz blah blah blah yadda yadda yadda. Whatever. That doesn't explain why they're only there and nowhere else in Australia or at least the region so me and Darragh found a better explanation. They're alien eggs. Obviously. Think about it. Goon might help or maybe some hard drugs.

Camping in the National Park is illegal and you'll be hit with a $1000 fine if they catch you but there's loads of free camps in the area around Cervantes with tables and chairs and fire pits you're not allowed to use on account of the total fire ban. After the sun had set we found the nearest one and set up camp for the night and lit some tea lights and it was then that I decided I was going to show Loody how to change the gas bottle on her stove using the candles as a light.

Can we spell r-e-t-a-r-d?

Oh come on, I didn't expect a little bit of gas to escape did I, I'm not a fucking fortune teller and... what..? what was that..? I don't understand, what is this "Common Sense" of which you speak...?

After I'd put the small blaze that shot up my arm out and run around in very small circles like a headless chicken with one foot nailed to the floor while I tried to decide if I should run away or kick the flaming gas stove away from Becky's tent the fire burnt itself out and I thanked the god of People Who Don't Think Too Much that I'd managed to screw the fitting completely into the bottle a split second before it caught.

Join me next time, ladies and gentlemen, when I intend to go swimming in shark infested waters during rag week.

West Coast Day 1: Getting To Know You

2007-05-02T18:10:00.000+08:00

It felt weird leaving things the way they were with Swoop, we didn't exctly part on the best of terms for reasons I still haven't quite worked out and she was off to Newman to start her new job on the mines the same day we were due to head up the West Coast. I sort of felt like I should have dropped her at the airport and chased the plane down the runway waving a white hanky and shouting "Darling! Don't forget to write!"

Ah well, what's done is done, what will be will be and all that other bollocks you say to make yourself feel better when you've fucked up again.

Aaaanyways, joining me on the trip up the coast would be Loody (a German lass I know from Perth) and Bexster (English girl I know from Echuca) who were on the South West Loop, Darragh, an Irish bloke who was one of the first people I met at Rainbow Lodge when I moved in and Craig, an Aussie mate of Becky's from Esperance.

Me, Loody, Becky, Darragh, Craig
Our First Camp Together
No sooner had Craig landed in Perth, we dragged him straight to the bottle shop to introduce him to the magic of goon; If he was going to be an honorary backpacker then he was going to have to learn to drink like one. We argued over what brand we should get, we all liked different ones, then we ultimately decided that they all taste as bad as each other so we settled for the cheapest. Backpacker rule number one; If its cheap enough you'll soon get used to it.
The staple diet of the South West Loop had been chilli and garlic so we stocked up on these as well. Of course we mixed the two with other ingredients such as Food but generally chilli and garlic were what we lived on. And here were we thinking that people avoided us in Rockingham because we were dancing to ringtones and singing London Underground at full volume in the shopping centre...

And we were off.... almost.

It was down to me to plan the route out of Perth because ~~I'm a tyrant and a control freak~~ I drove the lead car and had the maps and the free camping book. It took me about 15 minutes to find a route because, as Becky said, I'm easily distracted by shiny things and hot girls. Swoop was still on my mind. Damnit.

Eventually we made it to a rest stop about 20km south of Lancelin where I was deemed unsuitable to operate a telecommunications device whilst under the influence of goon and we had full signal here so my phone was switched off and handed to Becky to stop me making Phone Calls I Would Regret.

I'm such a sad cunt sometimes.

Anyway, that was day one. Not the most exciting unless your idea of fun is Woolworths in which case may I recommend Getting Out More but it was cool, we were finally on our way, Becky had the Big Scary Man (Darragh is 6'2") she'd been wanting all round the South West to protect her from axe wielding psychos and everyone got on.

Bring on the road trip.

Home

2007-05-01T16:05:00.000+08:00

You know when you want to spend your first night back just getting your shit together, settling in and generally having a quiet one then you go for One Pint and the next thing you're at some random new gay night in a part of town you never knew existed slurring into your over priced beverage and sucking helium from balloons until you have to sit down before you fall over while onlookers tut and shake their heads?

Yeah?

That.

So that's how the Perth weekend began.

Friday
The entire time I was in Perth I never went to The Rise on account of the fact my Friday and Saturday nights were spent running around Connections stealing peoples ice cubes (you have no idea how possessive people get over their ice cubes) and shouting at folks for attempting to pole dance off the outdoor heaters. Gutted. The Rise is awesome, pure duff duff music til the wee hours, glow sticks and all kinds of shiny things to keep you entertained, I could easily have spent far too much time and money here.

Me, Loody, Becky, Ashley (My Barman From Connies) And Darragh Do The Rise
Apart from a quick excursion to Connies to say hi to a few people this is where we stayed for the night and danced until my glow stick arm ached.

Saturday
The worst people to ask for things to do in a city are the locals because they never do the tourist stuff. Seriously, ask me what there is to do in Manchester and I'll stare at you blankly and wave vaguely in the direction of the nearest pub. Ask me what there is to do in Oxford and I'll probably laugh at you and give you directions to the train station with instructions to get the next express to London.

So this is how me and Loody ended up at Perth Zoo with Emily (a mate of mine from Connies) because according to Emily there's nothing else to do in Perth.

Ah well, its a none stressful way to spend a couple of hours wandering round like a slack jawed imbecile because you still haven't slept yet, it gives you an excuse to buy souveniers and its pretty big an all, you get yer $17 worth.

Night time and it was down to Connections where I completely over did it and had to get Swoop to remove me from the club. I'm sure I had a good night, I just can't remember right now.

Yeah yeah, I know this is a brief account considering I didn't sleep for over 50 hours but hey, details currently evade me.

Letting Go
It was good to be back in Perth, I love this city so much, its the only place I've been where I could call home and could see myself spending a good few years. Damn these foolish immigrations laws. I'm never going to be able to live here, I have nothing Australia wants and no way of getting it. I miss Perth so much it hurts but I don't think going back again will be a good idea as much as I'd love to, I need to let go now and just keep the memories I have. Always forwards, never backwards. It was so hard to leave last time I was reluctant to spend another weekend here but it was good to see everyone again, everyone from the club, Mark who I worked with at Dexion, whoever was left at Rainbow and Swoop.

Saying goodbye is hard enough, its even harder trying to explain to people who don't travel why you have to say goodbye when you blatently want to stay. Just because it hurts it doesn't mean it's not for the best.

Home Straight To Perth

2007-04-26T16:10:00.000+08:00

Balingup: 23/04/07
Bunbury: 24/04/07
Jarrahdale: 25/04/07

Margaret River To Balingup
There's not much more to see between Margs and Perth, no rocks or trees to keep you entertained, just lots and lots of beaches and it was too cold for that sort of frivolity so we decided to cut inland to Balingup for our next stop, the place where Loody did her WWOOFing (Willing Workers On Organic Farms, you work for about 4 hours a day and you get your food and accomodation. Its popular with backpackers because it counts towards your 3 months for your second visa).

But first, there was a jetty to marvel at in Busselton. At 1841 metres its the longest wooden based jetty in the southern hemisphere. Yep, that's nearly 2km and guess what? The little train was out of action because the jetty was no longer strong enough to support it.

What was I saying before about solid structures?

After we failed to catch any fish we settled for a tin of spaghetti then started the trek to the end because they have an Underwater Observatory where you get to walk downstairs, below the sea line and look at stuff through windows that you daren't touch just in case they're due to cave in. And all this for the modest sum of $20. Yeah, it was a bit pricey for what it was, just some fish and some pretty coral but it was quite cool and the exercise meant we'd earnt the biscuits I'd got from Woolworths before.

Its not easy finding some of these free campsites in the dark, ok? The roads are often unsealed and not marked on the map and the directions are sometimes vague. Ok, so I nearly got us lost but fortunately loody knew the area so we gave up on the site and headed to the farm where Loody had spent 10 days and Sarah (from Rainbow Lodge) was still staying where they fed us Proper Food and let us stay at Sarah's lodge on the farm for the night.

I quite liked it there, I don't reckon I could live there too long on account of the lack of phone signal and the fact the toilet is outside and there's no lighting outside the lodge and I have an inherant fear of werewolves but half the lodge was made out of an old bus and lets face it, thats fucking cool!

Balingup To Bunbury
If ever there was a town that suited a statue of a big mushroom, Balingup is it. Its a tiny litte hippy town with not much to do but you can kill a few hours there just checking out The Cheese Factory (has nothing to do with cheese), the Magic Mushroom Bakery (nothing to do with magic mushrooms), the Exotic Tree Park (exotic meaning English) and the various little craft shops.

We spent the morning there then headed up to Donnybrook for an hour of Tai Chi, stopping at Kirup Tavern for a bottle of the lethal Kirup Syrup. Me and Loody have had this before at Rainbow although Loody doesn't remember too much about it because that's the kind of drink Kirup Syrup is. You can only get it in this one place, possibly because it might be illegal in several countries.

Chilling At Sarah's.... Kirup Syrup; Amnesia In A Bottle.... Magic Mushroom Cafe, Balingup
After the most surreal Tai Chi ever (the class was taken by a dead woman from beyond the grave using the miracle of VCR. What, like they couldn't have got a new instructor?) it was onto a pay camp in Bunbury so we could do laundry and at least pretend we remembered how to be clean.

Bunbury To Jarrahdale
One of my favourite things about Australia is the sheer amount of public holidays they have, any excuse for a day off, they even have a day off for the Queen's birthday and we don't even do that in Britain. However, public holidays are only any use if you actually have a job to take a day off from so ANZAC day (25th April) kind of passed us by.

We spent $5.50 to go and feed some kangeroos at the Big Swamp Wildlife Park in Bunbury because roos are really cute in a Could Gut You With Their Bare Hands kinda way. They have loads of other things to stuff full of grain once you've gotten bored of snarling at the small children who try and take your roos off you. They have emus, goats, parrots and the most disturbing looking chicken in the world that looks like its brain escaped through a small hole in its forehead.

Petting Roos.... Twins?.... What The Fuck Is With This Chook?
Later, as we neared Rockingham we started to freak out, there were so many cars and so many people, we weren't used to sharing our space with people, it'd mean we'd have to behave ourselves. We were sort of thinking about heading to another pay camp that night, with us being so close to Perth we didn't think there's be too many free camping options but the book didn't let us down and we ended up near Jarrahdale, a non descript place but we didn't care. It was our last night before we were forced back into civilisation so we set up camp in a rest stop way out in whoop-whoop and cracked open the Kirup Syrup.

The rest of the evening was spent laughing until we hurt and making stuff out of wax and matches. It was on this night that we learnt that making nipple moulds out of tea lights can actually be quite painful.

Man, who'd have thunk it?

Not Exactly Big Now, Is It

2007-04-25T16:04:00.000+08:00

This website lists the Cow On The Corner in Brunswick Junction, WA, as a Big Thing so we dutifully rocked up for the obligatory photo shoot.

Not particulary big now, is it. In fact it's distinctly Cow Sized.

Not ones to pass up an opportunity we spent a few minutes molesting anyway it causing a local in a ute to drive past shouting, "Get off the cow!"

Oh come on, what the fuck else are you meant to do with it?!

Big Things #20

2007-04-24T14:14:00.000+08:00

The Big Apple in Donnybrook, Western Australia has been brought to you by the wonders of digital zoom on account of the fact its been closed to the public for years and you can't get anywhere near it.

Well I'm sure its vastly more impressive up close.

Sure of it.

Big Things #19

2007-04-24T13:07:00.000+08:00

The Big Mushroom suits Balingup, Western Australia down to the ground.

That's all I'm gonna say in case they stop smoking dope long enough to file a lawsuit for making drug related insinuations.