Southern Migration

oh neglected blog!

2008-01-22T20:17:00.000-08:00

This blog will escape its stagnation very soon. Stay tuned!

a penguin's escape

2008-01-04T14:42:00.000-08:00

Last night I read Jack London's South Sea Tale about a hurricane that storms over a small South Pacific atoll. The native pearl divers cling to the tops of cocoanut trees, until the terrific wind uproots trees and casts the natives into the lagoon to drown. As I read, the dark sky outside condensed into small black cloud of fury, and then let loose all its anger on the Galloway house alone. Wind, rain, wind! The house creaked from that mad wind that cavorted through town, the roof drummed from all the cats and frogs that fell on it.

The Galloway house was well prepared - you know those California houses are expensive for a good reason, right? In this case, the auto-buoyancy controls kicked in with the go-go-rubber-raft settings, allowing the house to float above the lake that was forming in the yard.

At 8:30am, I could hear the consternation in Shan's voice outside the house. Later, I learned the extent of the wind's damage: a broken window, a pushed over fence and gate, shingles scattered about the yard, a leaking garage, and a flooded fish pond. Worse, one of the three garden penguins decided to take flight, like Mary Poppins, off to the land of Oz. After a hunt through the alley way and the backyard, Shan finally found the penguin, returned from its plastic, neverland dream, and hiding underneath the fallen fence.

the great tamale walk, california

2007-12-31T20:09:00.000-08:00

The sample hiking boot smiled at me from the shelf. Its toe-box was ... different... from the others. I knew it was an automatic friendship.

Later that night the newly purchased hiking boots spoke frankly with my sister Shannon. It explained its ambitions for the future - mountains, islands, continents, deserts... "Well, we can go to Point Reyes tomorrow," she offered.

So it was, Shan and I found ourselves at the Great Tamale peninsula of Point Reyes. The long tamale-shaped finger extends into the Pacific ocean for 4.5 miles, over well-manicured hills of yellow lupine bushes and coastal grasses. The boots took off walking, and I was forced to comply, while my mind wondered aimlessly through completely different universes.

We saw the droppings of the great animals first, and then spotted them. From a distance they looked like great bales of hay, their tawny colored hides barely visible in the distance. We got closer to them - a magnificent herd of ilk! Yes, the ilk of the world roam in herds of 100+, piddling all over these coastal hills! We walked carefully, and in awe, of the ilk as to not disturb them.

As the walking boots and Shan finished the tamale walk, the sky suddenly turned a piercing orange. The three of us basked in the orange light, and finished our walk, well-satisfied.

the christmas tsa dance

2007-12-21T21:26:00.000-08:00

TSA is preaching at me and the security-less sheep in line behind me. If only we'd search our hearts and our bags for liquids, aerosols, and gels, before crossing to the other side! If only! WE determine the pace of the lines, WE can walk the straight and narrow, the right way, the first way!

The old tin man in the wheelchair in front of me has a knee bomb hidden in his knee replacement. His joints crank, click, creak as wavering, he slowly pulls himself out of the wheelchair, til he's tentatively towering over his chair. Don't touch the sides of the security gate! the tsa man screams, as he mercilessly watches the old man shuffle carefully and humbly forward. The old man almost touches both sides of the gate - flailing hands looking for invisible handholds. And then - the knowing eye of the security gate spots the knee bomb and incriminates the old man to a destiny of "Male Assist" in the pits of tsa confusion!

The geek teenager in front of me doesn't know the dance and drill - he is going to Minneapolis. Your jacket, your shoes, your belt and your computer, I tell him. My game console too? he asks. He mutters at disassembling his precisely packed entertainment bag - out come his Transmogrifier 720, his double-ray plasma-ion blaster, a slew of bomb-making manuals, and his game console.

Next, I grab three bins. One for the computer; one for the jacket, belt, shoes, pocket fuzz and money belt; one for my left arm, right arm, left foot, and right foot, and head. My bags come next, and I push everything through the X-ray scanner. I feel clean, knowing that all my thoughts and senses have been thoroughly scanned, checked and approved by tsa. No thoughts or bombs on me!

The geek kid wishes me a merry christmas as I collect my head on the other side. Do you go to school here?, he asks as an afterthought. Have a good one, kid, I say.

99 posts, and the end of it all

2007-12-17T10:43:00.000-08:00

I'm back in Phoenix.

I was surprised that it is winter here, and gets dark around 5:30pm. I forgot how scrubby the desert is around here, and how funny saguaros are. I nearly got in the driver side of Bryan's car, and I have short panic attacks when he turns into the "right" lane of traffic. The lanes are tremendously wide, and the streets are huge.

The waiter at the TexMex restaurant was exceptionally friendly. He checked on us too many times. Waitstaff in Australia/NZ is never tipped so well!

There is too much water that gets flushed down the toilet.

It is quiet here - quiet in the "everything is so far apart" sense. Also, in - where are the 10 other people sleeping in this room? sense. Dormitory living changes the rules of sleeping and waking, and when you can turn the lights off and on. It's strange to be so easily welcomed back into the typical luxury lifestyle of soft carpets, free wireless, no shower time limits, and power over the light switch.

three strikes for stewart island

2007-12-11T20:47:00.000-08:00

After a weekend of beautiful weather, the last few days have brought mist, gloom, and downpour on Stewart Island. A few other incidents have made me decide to quit Stewart Island a few days early as well.

The woman at the wireless internet cafe doubled the prices on me when she saw me coming in the 3rd day in a row. ($20/day internet!? No way!) I vowed never to return to her shop.

The matronly woman at the Visitors Center took a peek at my trail running shoes and broke my will telling me that I was under-prepared to go sludging around in the mud. The goal: Mason's bay on the other side of the island, where the kiwis are. The only other way to get out there required at least $100. I am convinced the townspeople of Oban are in on a conspiracy to control the kiwi population. They shoot the ones around town, and keep them in a holding pen on the far side of the island, so that all the adventure / excursion operators can make bank.

I read through all the trash (ie, pop) magazines and romance novels in my host's small collection. I saw her ugly side, as well, when some backpackers were off-loaded at her establishment. They were with a group that had run out of room at some other lodge. They were disappointed that her hostel cost more, but paid anyway. When they found out they could get in at the original lodge, they asked Joye for their money back. She blew up. "And how much did you expect a dorm bed to cost on Stewart Island, EH? Did you think $30 was too much, EH? I'll tell you taffy-nosed brats what you can do with this money, you can go back to where you came from. Or better yet, go down to the South Sea Hotel Bar, the locals will get attached to you there!" I think in her thinking, South Sea Hotel Bar was as good as condemning someone to eternal misery. I should have left with the 2 backpackers when they left, just to show her that I did not condone that kind of treatment of people... But I ended up sleeping in the next day (ie, was a tad lazy), and DID enjoy being her only customer. I had exclusive use of the 3rd floor, that has a great view over Half Moon Bay. (But such a climb to get to her house!)

The forecast reads for solid rain through the rest of the week. I am heading back to Auckland area sooner, where the weather is nicer. The yachtee I met in Fiji is in port, and I'm hoping he has a slew of good stories to tell.

I also need to begin job hunting. !!!

rakiura ++

2007-12-08T15:36:00.000-08:00

Stewart Island is called Rakiura, or "Land of the Glowing Skies." No doubt, with a lingering sunset allowing for daylight til after 10pm, daylight allows for long days to relax here. My idea of relaxing is going on a 3 day hike with a 20 lbs. backpack. NZ has a list of Great Hikes, all on well-maintained, fairly easy tracks, most with huts along the route in which you can spend the night. The Raikura Trek was the most recently added Great Hike (2002), and it still has not become very frequented.

The first day led along the coast - the route often followed a beach (beware high tide!). Sea gulls, suns, oyster catchers screeching! Sand flies! Sand flies are like a slower, stupider version of the mosquito. They are easy to avoid, but their bite is still itchy and annoying, and causes one to stay well covered. The mostly graveled track led into the woods, full of ferns, rimus (red pines), and tui birds. Tuis are prolific all throughout NZ and sound like a R2-D2 machine. They, along with the solemn bellbirds and the pessimistic warblers give you a lot to listen to in the woods.

The 2nd and 3rd days featured some of the muddy pathways that Raikura hikes are famous for. A history of trampers' boots imprinted in a wide spread of mud, followed by a nicely constructed boardwalk. A lot of befuddlement on why the Dept. of Conversation, who maintains the track, did not boardwalk the entire track, but instead would leave maybe 10 or 20 feeet between sections of boardwalk that were left to destruction and stomplement.

Yesterday I explored the area around the town of Oban, strolling out to the lighthouse, down to various sections of beach. Then, I joined a birdwatching expedition of Ulva Island, the nearby bird sanctuary. We were able to spot the incredibly rare brown saddleback bird. Woo. As well as wekas, kakas (parrots), kakarikis (parakeets), brown ___birds, warblers, tuis, bellbirds, and the smallest bird in NZ the green ___bird. In the evening I watched the sunset over Golden Bay from Observation Rock, and then watched a couple of Little Penguins climb ashore right before dark.

Still no sighting of a kiwi.

mom's nz photos

2007-12-07T15:20:00.000-08:00

http://www.flickr.com/photos/betbo/

the tramp is on

2007-12-03T21:49:00.000-08:00

The town of Oban, pop 350, seems almost like a frontier town in the bush here on Stewart Island. The birds cackle, sing, sqwak from the dense foliage - I feel like I'm at the edge of a mysterious jungle. This is supposed to be the best place to spot a kiwi in the wild in NZ. (Most New Zealanders have never seen a kiwi.) Also, a few different penguin species hang out here... So here goes the robin bird-brain action.

The town sits on Half Moon Bay, where a number of boats are anchored. There are only 12 miles of paved road on the island, and 180 miles of hiking trail. The town of Oban has a grocery store, a few cafes, no bank, 3 places to check internet, and only 4 budget backpacker places to stay. That's including citizens who have turned their houses into backpackers (ie, rent out a room). I am staying in one of these places now, as the one official Backpackers establishment was full due to some kind of function going on there.

The weather is perfectly clear today. But word is that the weather is often fickle here. I hope it stays clear while I'm here, the next week and a half.

sheepland, nz

2007-12-02T17:33:00.000-08:00

We are in the small country town of Tuatapere, Southland. There is nothing here.... Well, the inventory is as follows: Cookhouse Cafe, special of the day: all-day breakfast $18! The cafe is where you register for the campervan holiday park or backpackers lodge adjacent. (I parked the van behind the one tree and bush in the green lot, to make it feel a bit more woodsy around here. I can see a tree limb and some grass from where I lie in my over-cab loft.) A little dog with a face like a Jack Russell and a stout corgi body trots happily down the road. The cross-road, this side of town offers ^ Bluecliffs Beach < Invercargill > Riverton. I want to see the beach, so I go that way. A smattering of dilapidated, modest houses, one with cyan colored paint. A sign in front of one house reads, "The boil up was great!" Three kids, one older, 2 smaller push a lawn mower down the sidewalk. Two lots with disinterested sheep, 1 lot with 2 horned cows who regard me briefly. A fat black and white cat relaxes on a front porch. I reach a brown sign that notes that the beach is another 15 km away, and 6 km away the road turns to gravel road. The Hump Track is 19 km, for which it becomes clear the backpackers is the hop-off. So this is the exciting place we are staying the night. In the meantime, Aunt Carol fixed some lovely pork chops, yams, sesame seed bread, and Mom fixed the asparagus. Apricots and biscuits for dessert.

The road to Milford Sound was some of the best scenery I have seen on this trip so far. We were entering the Fiord National Park (on the 45*S parallel!), so drastic, jutting mountains were the feature here. We were in a rush to get to a campsite at the end of the road, before it got too late, so we didn't stop to explore or take pictures. The next day brought all gloom and rain. The scheduled cruise of the sound revealed ghostly mountains enclosing the waterway. The only real advantage was a new slew of waterfalls that gushed down the cliffs everwhere you looked from the rainwater run-off. We passed some Fiord penguins, only existing around this region - Mom saw them, I didn't. Also saw a small pod of bottlenose dolphins.

3 full days with Mom and Aunt Carol left. A black cloud of reality is looming on my forthcoming horizon - the end of my vacation! The trip ends in a little over 2 weeks. :( I could travel indefinitely if money wasn't such a limiting factor.

***************

We visited a sheep farm to see how the ranchers wrangle and abuse the pitiless creatures. I read somewhere that Romney sheep are not as intelligent as Merino sheep, which fare a lot better in Australia and provide better quality wool. The Romney is a British brand of sheep, and does well in NZ - its wool is used for carpets and itchy jackets. From a distance, the millions of sheep had looked so cute and fluffy, grazing peacefully in the pastures. But now I rather despise them for their dirty bums that the ranchers must shave off before shearing, and for their mass stupidity. They are not endearing at all. Cows, in comparison, look so much more graceful, elegant and noble.

We headed south from Milford Sound, towards Invercargill and the Southern Scenic route. Many fur seals, penguin sighting attempts, and coastal views later, we are back in Christchurch, at the airport. I am headed back to Invercargill, where I will then catch a flight to Stewart Island - NZ's 3rd largest island - for the remainder of my trip.

campervanning at mount doom

2007-11-27T23:24:00.000-08:00

I am sitting in the back of the campervan, which is parked amongst large Christmas-tree conifers, right off a road that is 17km away from nowhere! The only life we passed on the way out here was hundreds of grazing sheeps and cows, who are all mindless of the light, cold rainfall. We registered at the do-it-yourself camp registration stand, and found a lakeside campsite, accessible by dirt road. The lake was lined by the same flowers that line the roads all around here. These flowers look remarkably like blue bonnets, but larger and more columnus, and in brilliant, yet bittersweet palette of purple and pink.

The lake is not the piercing, milky azure color that the other lakes we saw today were, which are made so blue by refracted light on rock flour; rather it's darker and moodier. It reminds me of some mood rings I saw in a souvenir shop that were all a dark blue that the information key said meant "depressed." The lake is more indecisive in mood. A set of glacier-scarred Mt. Dooms loom above the colorless water.

Mom is fixing burritos, and the rain / hail finally stopped.

After crossing over to the South Island, we headed south to Kaikoura, snaking down a Highway 1 that reminds me of California's Highway 1 in its cliffy proximity to oceaniness (descriptive?!). Here, we saw a few turquoise bays with dark gray sanded beaches, a few seal colonies, where the flubber monsters hung out in geometrically interesting strands of floating kelp. We camped south of the town of Kaikoura, and I tried swimming a bit in the pre-tidal pool waters. After I swam out of the shallows, the artic water hit my mind and froze my thoughts, so I swam back to shore.

The clouds are breaking, and the shine illuminates the mountain across the lake.

After Kaikoura, we headed past Christchurch to Lake Tekapo and Mt. Cook. Tekapo and the lakes around here truly are Martian in their other-wordliness. T blue, the pink and purple royal road-lining, along with the snow-capped matterhorn-looking Mt. Cook in the distance, and you have some views that are supra-bobrossian. Beyond Lake Kutapi the water petered out into a glacial snail trail valley. The glacier's flight path is clearly discernible, as the flat valley is sharply hemmed in by mountains.

The campervan lifestyle is good, although I am regretting passing through all these beautiful areas without being able to hike/explore them by foot. My foot is still not in a condition to handle that though. In lieu of hiking, I get the exercise of safe driving. If AC's arm floats to the !! handle, then I know I'm going too fast.

Off to Milford Sound!

a kiwi thanksgiving

2007-11-23T22:56:00.000-08:00

Two jobs that will always be in demand in NZ: sheep shearers and gardeners. NZ countryside looks like it's been processed and reprocessed. There are partially shorn hillsides (and covered with sheep!), clumps of jungly brush here, nicely ordered pine trees there, all edged in by nicely mowed grass. All of NZ must have been cleared of all its natural vegetation and then replanted. All to good effect though.

I convinced AC and Mom to avoid the expensive holiday parks that include trampolines, swimming pools, huge kitchens and laundry facilities. Instead, we found a random camping site along a white-water river and white cliffs, with few facilities, but with a great view! Here, Aunt Carol fixed a fine Thanksgiving dinner in our gas stove and oven. Deli roast chicken with a dollop of stuffing, microwave potatoes, zucchini and kiwi. And a half burnt apple pie for dessert!

Yesterday we visited Rotorua ("Rotorouter") to see thermal wonders. Today we took the Bluebridge ferry from the North Island to the South. The massive ferry floats into a deep inlet bay into the South Island, lined by cliffs and spotted by occasional islands. Soon we will be off to Kaikoura.

adventures in northland

2007-11-20T23:05:00.000-08:00

Let me reintroduce myself as Robin, bus driver, chauffeur, escort extraordinaire.

The logo on the campervan says it all: "Adventure". Our adventure in Auckland began with trying to start the campervan. The ornery key, stubbornly stuck in the ignition would respond to no coaxing, begging, wheel pushing, or brake stomping. Until finally it yielded to a strange man who helped us out, go figure. I clipped the curb as I pulled the campervan precariously out of the airport parking lot. How's that for exciting stuff!

We quickly learned that navigating in Auckland was not easy. (Mom's directions are as such: "Should we turn right on Williamson? I'm not sure if that's the right road. Hmm.") Mom had her first experience with the Maoris, asking them for directions in the midst of a crowded shopping street. Alas, my hands sweaty and my face set in deathly pallor, we found the caravan park, and not knowing how to hook up the water, gas, or waste, we settled with Chinese takeout for dinner, and turned in.

Auckland proved scary and boring, and I was glad when we escaped it the next day. Emerald greenery awaited us in the sub-tropical, mountainous country side. The piercing greeness of it reminded me of Costa Rica. The magnifcent mountains that met the ocean reminded me of Venezuela. The unendingly splendid scenery reminded me of the Andes. And yet, here was a whole new set of flora - I could only recognize the ferntrees of Australia. Some new birds greet me too: a couple of which I've heard such soft and enchanting bird songs from the bushes. And note: as of yet, no flies here!

Today, we took a cruise amongst the Bay of Islands, north of Auckland. The hope was to be able to swim with dolphins, but I guess we're doing good just to see a huge pod of dolphins. Restrictions are such that you are not allowed to swim with the dolphins if juvenile dolphins are present in the pod, because the babies will spend too much time playing with humans instead of drinking milk from their mothers. They need the constant milk from their mothers to keep warm - hypothermia in these warm-blooded creatures being a major problem. I would rather imagine that most pods would contain juveniles though, since big pods consist of females, and females are always reproducing. I guess you only get to swim with males?

We're headed south again, along such snake-like 1-lane roads - remember I'm driving a barge! Despite it's difficult handling, the campervan life is free-ing and exciting though. We have cooked a couple meals on the campervan's gas stove, the fridge is stocked, and our clothes are all hidden in tiny little bins. I sleep in the loft above the cab - a spot big enough for 2 children - I can just barely stretch out.

To Rotorua and beyond!

true blue

2007-11-18T03:00:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting here listening to "True Blue" by John Williamson - the classic Australian singer - on my last eve in Australia. Does this sum up the Australians I've met?

True Blue, is it me and you
Is it Mum and Dad, is it a co-ockatoo
Is it standin' by your mate when he's in a fight
Or just Vegemi-ite
True-ue-ue Blue, I'm a-asking you

I'm asking you!

Perhaps if I had a moment to reflect, I could tell you. As is, Mom and AC have taken Sydney by storm, with me, their loyal, humble escort. Saturday, by red double decker tourist bus line, complete with commentary and 31 stops. Opera house, Manly Beach ferry, Maritime Museum!

Today, an ultra-touristy bus tour to a wildlife park and the Blue Mountains. By now, I have seen and done such things too many times now. I am a pro at Australian day tours. So I can say that the kangaroos at the Australian wildlife ~~park~~ zoo looked a little more dejected and bored than roos at other parks, and the tour felt a little rushed. A few good moments though: a white peacock (peacocks aren't Australian!) on a shed roof, sqwaking, while flaring its tail in consternation as a crocodile below it lunged at some bait food. I finally saw a cassowary - the endangered emu-like bird of the tropical rainforest in the north, whose eating and spreading of fruits is required in the germination and distribution of many species of trees.

I also finally saw the blue mountains - no fog like last time. The mountains were... true blue.

Tomorrow we are off to New Zealand, with nary a sentimental last glimpse at Australia. By now, the left side of the road feels more natural than the right, eucalypts and cockatoos are ordinary, and I am beginning to say "mate" and "mozzies". Flies don't bother me anymore, and my skin doesn't burn anymore either. Australia is in my blood, and I am not sure I will fully realize the impact it has had on me until I leave. A magnificent country.

Important notes for future travelers:

By far the best way to get around for trips longer than a couple weeks is by car. Buying one and reselling at the end is the most economical way, and affords the most freedom.

Australia is more expensive than the United States. Prices are extremely inflated, and even with the (slightly) stronger US dollar, Australia prices still are high.

Flies cover the entire continent. If flies bother you, Australia is not for you. (Although you may be safer in the cities.)

The West is huge and mainly offers: gorges, swimming holes, and its coastline, which features the little known Ningaloo Reef. I think this would make for a great scuba trip in the future.

of moms and sydney

2007-11-16T02:00:00.000-08:00

Back in Sydney, I await the arrival of MOM (and Aunt Carol). The pressure is on to play expert Sydney tour guide, navigating the transit system with ease, gliding stress-lessly through a chaotic city.

But in the meantime, I've checked into the inn my mom reserved, and I am enjoying all the fine luxuries of the rich and famous. Irons and ironing boards, full length mirrors, ensuite bathrooms, big white towels, a refrigerator, control over an AC system, a safe, and complimentary coffee. There is even wireless in the room for only $2/hr! What more could I ask for?

I am taking my leave of Stacey now, who remains at the YHA hostel in Sydney for another week. Mom, AC and I leave for NZ on the 20th.

penguinade

2007-11-14T00:13:00.000-08:00

The immediate sensation, on climbing into the tour bus yesterday, was the singular smell of foul air on the bus. Hmm, an interesting way to start a tour. Soon enough, 21 of us tourists were off to an Australian wildlife park to enjoy kangaroos, koalas, who you are not allowed to cuddle with - by law! - in the state of Victoria, wallabies, dingos, emus, wombats, and a tasmanian devil. Stacey resisted this overly touristy encounter with "wildlife" - I think such sentimental displays of cutesiness were counter to his big, bad man image. I guess I don't mind joining in such shamelessness, though, because I always ask a ton of questions about the animals at the same time - so it becomes an unrivaled learning experience.

We drove to King Philip Island - a large island a few 100 meters off the main land, bordered on the south by Bass Strait, which separates Australia from Tasmania. On the island we visited Woolami Beach - a famous surfing beach, and a volcanic rocky outcrop home to fur seals, called the Knobbies. The green hills around the Knobbies are covered with miniscule purple and yellow flowers, and a slew of seagull nests. A boardwalk leads along these hills, overlooking the strange volcanic rocks which emerge from the madly chaotic ocean. The numbers of sea gulls, frantically busy with their nesting duties, sqwaking, demonstrating, fighting, appealing for food, burrowing in the green, produced the affect of walking through a little city of birds. This, with such a grand view of ocean waves, and black basalt rocks made me feel transported to another world.

The highlight of the tour causes the massing of hundreds of tourists behind two roped-in grand stands at the top of the beach, to watch the world's smallest penguin emerge from the ocean's side, right after dark, and scurry apprehensively up the beach to find their nests in the hillsides. Odd it was - the little black and white birds appearing in groups of 20 or 30, way yonder, stepping forward fearfully until a swooping gull would dive at them and they'd run back to the water. Meanwhile, another group farther down the shore would storm the beach with a war whoop (well maybe not that), and waddling aggresively, would cross the open stretch of sand within a couple minutes. A lost penguin, blue back glistening like a fish's skin, would then wander right in front of the crowd, oblivious to all the Japanese Ooooo's.

Leaving the grand stands, you could wander up the beach yourself, and watch penguins finding thier burrows in the green hillsides. A few displays of domestic violence, as mr. penguin would be chased out of the house by an irrate house-penguin. (Although admittedly, the pairs take turns watching the nest.) The penguins were everywhere on the island, so you didn't need to look very hard to find them.

This day excursion followed several enjoyable days in Melbourne. My Dutch friend from the Western Exposure tour, Annemarie, was also in town. Stacey, she and I explored the city for 2 days. Melbourne seems to have it all - from an extremely interesting and compact downtown, to bike lanes, and huge cheap markets, a comprehensive tram system, free tourist buses, good recycling programs, and a multitude of parks and sporting areas. The diversity, as I mentioned before, makes for excellent people watching. So far my favorite Australian city.

Now I am back in Sydney. In a couple days my mom and aunt arrive: doom and chaos. (haha, just kidding, Mom!)

wild goose chase in melbourne

2007-11-09T02:54:00.000-08:00

So Stacey's contacts went and annihiliated themselves... somewhere in Sydney. They are completely MIA, and we are now in Melbourne. Stacey is a bit on shaky ground without these contacts, so some madness has ensued in chasing the trail of the ghost contacts. A call to Sydney Airport, where security so non-chalantly ripped the guts out of Stacey's backpack to fry it in the X-ray scanner. A call to the unfortunate party hostel we stayed at as a last resort. (The Scottish? girls had staggered in at 4am and taken 1-2 of the 3 internet computers. Their English is nearly not English at all, but a confused gurgle. The advertised wireless didn't work there.) Stacey decided to enlist the Mom-transport system (who has yet to be informed) to deliver a new more-valuable-than-gold contact, when she arrives on the 16th - that, failing the intelligent people working at the hostel actually finding the contact.

We took a break from the Hunt to go visit a gym in the town center. A tram ride to town, a swim in a 30 meter pool (makes for more difficult pace calculations), and I was feeling refreshed. We decided to find a new contact case for Stacey, which led to all kinds of interesting places. A Korean grocery store that had hair dye next to q-tips; another grocery store manned by a comical Asian fellow ("We have razor, BUT NOT FOR YOUR HEAD!!!"), a theater, a carpark nestled by skyscrapers, Aldi - a 99 cent store feeling bulk goods store (lots of laundry detergent there), and finally a well-hidden shopping mall. While Stacey spent his time in the toilet, I let the diversity of the crowd whirl my head. A wide array of Asians, Greeks, Indians, whites, etc, but Stacey is the only black, and still gets a lot of stares. (A man the other day came up to him and asked if he was from Africa. !?!?! ) The fashion is likewise across the board - suave suits to super-punk to sporty and Asian chic, etc...

Finally we found Safeway, which referred us to the pharmacy upstairs in the corner, which referred us to the optometrist shop 2 doors down. Alas, a little plastic case was successfully secured, and we were able to go shopping for food - roast beef.

Much disappointment back at the hostel when I found that my cold foods bag had been stolen. Mayonnaise, butter, pears and green apples are GONE. Note that I brought this food with me on the plane from Sydney. Stacey and I are going to find some high security refrigerator system - chain mail and locks, to make sure are future grub stays in place.

Stacey's blog.

the grey mountains

2007-11-07T13:34:00.000-08:00

The Blue Mountains lie east of Sydney, 2 hours by train. Not so much of mountains as a high shelf of rolling hill-age, the "blue" relates to the olive + maroon coloring of the eucalypt forests. This area, a World Heritage sight, has 13% of the world's eucalypts, including 90 different species of eucalypt. I can almost see a eucalyptus tree from here, from the old-timey hearthy dining room of the YHA in Tacoomba. The tree is shrouded in mist, swaying in the windy rain. The weather has been quite dismal, and watching Stacey shiver against the undesertly cold has inspired me into a winter mindset. We are staying inside, spending too much time online, and enjoying the large kitchen ("would be good for a fight out in a movie," I said. "Looks like a French kitchen," he responded), the warm fire, the highly available power points, and the view of the couches. The patronage here is also a bit older and mature. Several elderly couples, a couple families help to relax the vibe around here.

So as of yet, the view from the train was the best view we have had of the Blue Mountains. First, was the exodus from Sydney, through redundant suburbs. Graffiti along the tracks, almost quaint architecture, if you ask me. I didn't see any suburbage that was quite as careless as some coookie-cutter American suburbs. Next, into the mountains. A few cockatoos ("Stacey, look there!" "Where?" "Oh, too, late."), the reddish tinted trees, and a few small towns. Grey skies.

I have been enjoying having Stacey to travel with. We poked around Sydney all of Tuesday - strolling until the feet hurt, resting, and then strolling some more. We walked to the Rocks from Glebe - a bunch of historic hotels around there. Along the wharfs until we caught sight of the opera house. The green - black color of the bay water is reflected in some of the buildings and fences around the area. We visited the Museum of Modern Art, which had a disappointing, self-absorbed exhibition by Julie Rrap, and then on a whim, caught a ferry to Manly Beach. The whole day, we were dodging wind and and a cold breeze. (Off goes the jacket, now back on...)

Stacey's photos

On Friday, we are off to Melbourne.

enter stacey

2007-11-04T20:55:00.001-08:00

I woke up early to catch the private line train to Sydney airport. The irritable Canadian had snored, choked, and garbled most noisily throughout the night, and I didn't fall asleep til late. I took care in the morning packing my backpack, so the weight would be well-distributed across my shoulders, and I could stand comfortably with all my gear in the airport for a while.

QF40 - Stacey's flight. I waited at Exit A/B for about an hour before Stacey showed up - same benevolent giant, but a bit trimmer. It is good to have an 1) American 2) friend 3) that I can trust and 4) discuss in depth with. Right now though, he's resting, while I have found the grocery store in Glebe district. This area has trendy bookshops and cafes and a fairly business-class pedestrian base.

The next four weeks of travel = travel with friends and family. I am glad to have a new constant element added to my adventures. Nomadic relations get old.

esperance to sydney

2007-11-03T18:45:00.000-07:00

It is nice to wake up after a deep, restful sleep and find yourself in a new city. But not just any city - Sydney! Buses, planes and trains later, I'm finally here, staying at the Central YHA, in a room with a Canadian who breaks out into singing "Yesterday" and complains of having to use locks on lockers.

The end of the 5 day tour turned out better than the first part. Western Exposure had combined the 3-day and 5-day tours to the southwest. So as soon as the 3-dayers left, who were mostly a rowdy bunch of British folks, it was a bit easier to manage in a smaller group. Plus, we arrived in Esperance shortly after. The beaches there were quite idyllic - the sand white and water bluer than anything I saw in Fiji. Unfortunately, it was a bit too cold out to go swimming. Nevertheless, just walking along beautiful beaches was very pleasing. I also befriended a soccer-playing German school teacher named Armin, from Munich area. We were able to chat, so this made the trip more enjoyable.

My ankle is improving quickly. I have been able to do some light hiking without too much pain. Travel continues as normal, slightly desensitized, sans full ankle function.

mind the gap

2007-10-30T03:08:00.000-07:00

I'm in a party van, headed southwest, on yet another tour. This one is 5 days, from Perth to Esperance and back. I hear Esperance beaches are paradisical, so maybe that will make the social discomfort well worth it. Having so quickly shucked off the last group in Perth, I am now rather missing them. Alex, our tour leader, had been very professional and confidence inspiring; the travelers, headed up by Annemarie, were more than friendly. My current tour has 2 training tour leaders along with the main tour leader, and they are all young and partyish. "Like, the trees are old and stuff. So... cool." The people in the group have been harder to chat with. I'm trying not to be prejudiced against any of them though.

We saw the most impressive cliffsides today: a rocky gap in the ocean cliff where the waves angrily bash into each other. Since the tour began, we have also visited a winery, a dolphin discovery center, a chocolate factory, a lighthouse at the meeting of the South and Indian Oceans, walked through a cave, strolled along several nice beaches, and seen a lot of big trees, and stuff. So... cool.

planet perth

2007-10-26T04:08:00.001-07:00

Perth impresses so far. Perhaps because the backpacker culture merely observes rather than dominates the local culture. It also helps that Cairns and Darwin set my expectations for Australian cities fairly low. Perth is the largest city in Australia I've been to, and I am basking in the highly diverse population. Asians, southeast Asians, tall willowy Africans, and a whole slew of folks I couldn't even begin to guess the heritage of - in all different styles and modes. They swarm over a city that is modern and clean.

So the 21 day Western Exposure Tour is over, and I have to say I was a bit ready for the end of this one. After snorkeling Ningaloo Reef and chasing manta rays, the days stretched into long drive days, racing towards Perth. The social interaction in the group antipacted the ending, and I was rather quite ready for some alone time.

After Coral Bay, we went to Monkey Mia to watch the dolphins swim in the shallows, where they have been interacting with humans for the last 30 years. In the super-saline waters in this area, more sea grass can grow, and sharks, manatees, dolphins, and rays all are in abundance, as well as cockle shells which form dunes on the beaches. Also stromalatites are present here - a spongy limestone structure that grows in the low tidal areas. They are developed from cyanobacterias and look like black rocky toadstools.

The following day, we visited mustard-colored soily Kalbarri National Park (and gorge!). I am amply able to limp down the easier trails now, and this has afforded me a bit of luxury to stop and look at flowers, rather race to the end the trail with the others.

Last we visited the Pinnacles north of Perth today. But my mind was so set on Perth, so the Pinnacles failed to fully impress.

I get a couple days of rest before I head off on a short excursion through the Southwest.

the great manta chase

2007-10-23T01:33:00.000-07:00

Suddenly, the peaceful manta ray, who had been enjoying a pleasant cruise through Coral Bay in search of his favorite plankton sensed that something might be following it. What could it be? Nevertheless, it sailed through the murky blue, with this irking suspicion. Indeed, 12 snorkelers were on his tail, huffing and puffing along to keep up with it, while trying to move as smoothly as possible. No need to alert the manta ray of their presence! The ray ghosted along through the deeper blue, with its escort fish barely visible on its underside.

The second ray looked like a flying tablecloth, according to Andrea in a group, and I quite concur. The 3 meter mammal floated easily, it's wings flapping like a bird's. It gave its stalkers a bit of a break in following it too.

Pictures up in a few days!

mishap!

2007-10-22T04:07:00.000-07:00

More gorges! In Karajini National Park, there are scrubby old mountains, whose multi-colored striations slant downwards, and whose eroded gorges show a lovely cross-section of silica, iron, and other such novelties. Again, at ground level, you only see the yellow savanahs and eucalypts, but a steep descent into the gorge reveals these rocky delights. The gorges in Karajini were narrower, more difficult to traverse, and more harmful. Yes, dear reader, in a moment of bravery and courage, I challenged one of the gorge's great rocks to a duel, and lost when I gave it a sound kick in the gut. It was unphased; my big toe suffered magnificently. Limp, limp, goes the Robin.

We spent 3 nights and 2 days in the park which is about 350 miles from the coast. We camped in permanent tents and slept again in swags. (But I had thought no more swag-gage! Hrmph!)

When we finally headed back to shore, I had another moment of grandeur, when I mistook a swinging step out of the bus for solid footing, and found myself tumbling the couple feet down to the ground and landing on the side of my ankle. I let out a belligerent holler to the surprise of all the others still in the bus. Alex, the tour leader, quickly escorted me to go sit in the shade, and let the pain reside. My ankle swelled to the size of an egg, to my delight (for it is pleasing for something to look as awful as it feels). Hobble, hobble, goes the Robin. (I must thank my Dutch friend Annemarie who has helped me considerably since my mishap.)

Nevertheless, I am confident that whatever injuries should be forgotten within a few weeks. And I am still able to snorkel with no hindrance. We visited the Ningaloo Reef today, the western fringing reef right off the coast. It was quite enjoyable to float on the water's surface and watch the coral spawning and the parrotfish hiding.

Tomorrow: a tour de force of Ningaloo from Coral Bay. Manta ray viewing - this is one of 2 places in the world with a permanent manta ray population (the other place is California). We're also supposed to visit a shark cleaning station. The tour ends within 5 days in Perth.

Another side mishap: The 1GB SD card I was using has become unreadable, and I've lost a series of camel photos that I took on a beach camel ride in Broome, as well as some good campfire shots. I'm hanging on to the card in case a specialist might be able to talk sense into the SD card.

the kimberley

2007-10-15T01:40:00.000-07:00

I should have realized that driving through Western Australia was quite similar to driving through the great nothing in West Texas, but with even more nothing. Great expanses of scrub land stretch forever. Driving along the unpaved Gibb River Road, one would never suspect the spectacular gorges hidden in the scrub. Scrub, in this case, consisted of taciturn eucalypts, spinifex - that prickly desert grass that stopped the early exploration of the Outback in the 1800's, red dirt termite mounds, that sometimes look like sculptures of a pile of sheep, sometimes the characters in the nativity scene; and the occasional boab tree. This latter, is a tubby trunked tree, much appearing as a giant potato, with branches sticking out, looking very much like a potato's roots. The boab is also found in South Africa.

So the miles stretched out along Gibb River Road, and we camped in the area for three nights. Previously we had spent two nights at Bungle Bungles, the most ridiculous bungle of hills. The colorful red and black banded prison stripes bespeak of conspiracy amongst the giant hills, who must have been discussing something cheaky before being petrified into their current state. Hidden behind the hills' guard was a shadowed pool in a natural ampitheater - a great rocky overhang, with a sandy beach at the pool's murky edge.

Thus the trip continued: Hike, swim, hike. It's hot out! At lunch we watched the thermometer climb to 41 Celsius as we fixed tired cold cut sandwiches with beet root and shredded cheese. The bumpy roads led us to creek bottoms, whose precarious rocky trails led to dark watered pools with waterfalls. We saw so many of these that I quite have gotten them confused. But in this they were uniform: surrounded by rocky red or black cliffs. The water, cool and refreshing. A swim to the trickle of a waterfall, and then back to land to heat up in the sun again. For 9 days, we were an army of hike, swim, hike.

The culture in the area consisted of the very rare Road House or gas station, which often included a camp ground or aboriginal station (with Aborigines!). These stops were real treats - some cold drink relief, and a glimpse at life in the outback.

At night we took turns fixing supper over a gas stove. I generally was fast out to sleep in my swag afterwards, hoping for a cool breeze. I covered my face in the canvas to protect against mosquitoes, but a couple mornings I had a red bumpy swelling from some bites. Dawn came by 5am, and the cockatoos and crows would begin their sqwaking contests. Next, the flies awoke and bzzed you into waking up. For breakfast, corn flakes, oat flakes or muesli with canned fruit and boxed milk.

My favorite site that we visited was Windjana Gorge. Ominous black limestone towers jut up from the flat scrub land - the remains of an ancient barrier reef. When I learned of it's previous aquatic purpose, I could immediately relate this rocky structure to the reefs I saw in the Great Barrier. There were the cubby hole hideouts of the parrotfish, moray eels and soft corals. Also, visible were fossils of crustaceans in the rock. A sandy-beached creek populated by freshwater crocodiles wound through the blacks cliff walls. In the trees a gaggle of cockatoos were settling for the evening, again sqwaking ceremoniously.

Yesterday we arrived in Broome on the West Coast. A kite festival on the spacious, gradual sandy beach. Turquoise water and orange sunset. Golden bodies in the fading light. My first view of the Indian Ocean.