The blog's way behind, so we caste the final 3 weeks of Australia into a series of cannonballs. Now we're going to BOOM fire em at your face!
From Fraser we bussed it to wealthy Noosa. Mellow beach vibe but the surf was garbage. Don't think I'll ever return intentionally. Irrelevant place despite it was the jump off for Brisbane StereoSonic...
Back in Rainbow beach.
Brado is scanning his favorite artists on myspace; the dj duo Crookers, pioneers of the genre 'fidget house' aka 'ghetto tech,' is spinning Brisbane in 2 days, and we'll be in Noosa just 2 hours away! Research the venue: a festival with huge international acts like Carl Cox, Tommy Sunshine, Midnight Juggernauts, Dave Nada, and Booka Shade. Holy crap buy tickets right away don't even consider accomodation. Hell, Brisbane is Australia's 3rd largest city!
An all night greyhound brings us to Noosa 8am day of festival. Gotta find some Brisbane beds. Hop on computers only to discover that every hostel in the city is booked! That night, both world cup rugby and a world cup cricket are playing in the city. We either A) trash the tickets or B) roll the dice, see a handful of awesome electro talent, stay up all night, and catch the first greyhound back to Noosa at 7am; a.k.a., go on a big adventure. Discussion. Brado offers intelligent, logical, real input while I'm hopping around overexcited filled with adrenaline. We both love the music so much. Bus to Brisi leaves in 45. Festival starts in 3 hours. LET'S DO IT! Stash our bags with 2 lovely Germans met on the Greyhound. With nothing but wallets and the spirit of Australia we rush to the station.
Pull into Brisi at 1130am. Walk to a nearby cafe and print the tickets. Lady at the front says a storm is supposed to hit. Recent ones detroyed several buildings, killed 2 people, and ripped the roofs off her neighboring apartments, so we should be warry of flying tin metal. Good gawd what are we getting into! Grin and chuckle nervously to nobody at all. We're about to see our favorite artists and gaul force winds may hit, winds that killed people and pummled monolithic skyscrapers. That nutty soundbite from 'Black Man' by St. Germaine comes to mind.
Hunger hits like a firetruck. Big macs fuel. Grub and rush to the trainstation. Hop off and rush to the fairgrounds. A deep droning bassline hollers from the heavens. Beautiful 20-somethings swarm a streetside liquor vendor. We shamble on with wind howling in our eyes. Oh shit. We get to the entrance and the place is J-A-M-M-I-N-G. People are dressed like smurfs, santas, dinosaurs, pumpkins, lifeguards, and whores. We're taken back at how beautiful everyone is. Back in the states, the attendees of electro festivals are mostly drugged out goobers. But Aussies dig this stuff and everyone's georgous. The dudes are muscled to the fingernail. Girls are amazing, I mean drop dead gorgeous, and wearing next to nothing. Our jaws drop and our heads spin around then fall off bouncing to the booming beat of Dave Nada. He gets on the Mic and starts pumping everyone up then all hell breaks loose. Its 1 o'clock.
The day escalates with insanity. A few hours of raging and we find an oak tree to rest our gelatin legs. Beside us are 2 locals slamming beer and wine coolers. One is wearing a psychedelic elmo trucker hat and zebra leg warmers. Her companion looks normal until he stands up and skips to the bar like a techno fairy. The girl strikes up conversation. Wonderful music festival addict. The guy returns; name's John and he's hilarious. Chat for a bit and right when we describe our sleepless intention, he insists on showing proper Aussie partying. He extends invitations to his penthouse afterparty and couches for us to crash. Life's got a crazy way of working out!
We all party for hours then find an open patch of grass and I lie back bobbling in the boom. Meet a few more locals. Its ridiculous how popular the shows 'Laguna Beach' and 'The Hills' are. People dream of moving to Orange County. Just mentioning that I'm from SoCal draws attention. We rock out til 1030pm then pour into the streets with the rest of the Brisbane youth. It's Saturday night. Chic clubgoers abound and we're dead tired sunburned dressed in singlets and shorts. Call up John and he invites over to his friends hotel room to chill. We arrive and this girl is watching America's Wildest Police Chases. She expounds the benevolence of Australia and how crazy America is, how everyone carries a gun there. We don't yell at her, but rather humbly point out the possibility that her information may be slightly biased considering it is based on a show explicitly premised on uniquly dangerous situations. And her rebuttal includes examples from Cops and The OC. We leave the room to joke with the rest on the patio. She really was quite nice. Return and she's watching her favorite show: Desparate Housewives. Wow. Sleep on the carpet, Bradon on the couch.
3am. Her boyfriend gets off work and we get the boot. Johns long gone and we dont feel like hiring a cab to his lavish apartment. Oh the frugal life of backpacking. Wander the slamming streets til 4am then find ourselves at the train station. An ageless bearded hobo woman who smells of old milk keeps mumbling nonsense at me. Gotta keep switching benches. Pass out in McDonalds. Eventually we ride the train back to central station and return to Noosa feeling like lumpy sour yogurt. Crookers? Booka Shade? Unexpected adventure on the otherside of the globe? Thank you sir may I have another.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
[Days 54 - 57] Fraser
[Brad & I decided that beyond any doubt, these 3 days are in the greatest hits. This post is a little long but there's heaps of pics and songs... Cheers!}
Jane's crazed excitement set the tone. She was all giddy and totally infatuated with everything. The rest were stoked too, but her raw energy was so empowering. I called her Jane of Arc. As a self-proclaimed 'foodie' she leaped at the opportunity to organize the 3 day grocery list. Nobody really cared what we ate, except, of course, for the Israelis' deference toward pork.
Now, before you can set foot on the world's biggest sand island, the Australian government requires watching a duet of 10 minute videos that advise not feeding dingoes, avoiding goanna dragons, not entering the ocean because of rip currents, and tiger sharks breed out there, and deadly box jelly fish do whatever jelly fish do even in the shallows. They say the streams are fresh water and drinkable, and finally, they give a short lesson in driving on the beach. We received all that info at our hostel communal area 4pm the evening prior.
Eventually there would be 33 of us, but only 31 were there that night. We were divided into 3 groups: ours consisted of 4 Israelis (Avi, Ada, Adar, and David), a French couple (Ludo and Audrey), 2 Canadians (Armand and Sam), and 1 Aussie (Jane). The 11 of us decided on 'Team Goon Wagon', and a great synergy emerged as we became acquainted with one another and planned out the meals.
At 6am the next morning, I slipped out the top bunk and over to the shower. The next 60 minutes were an eye-crusted ride landing me in the front parking lot. All were there, including last night's absentees and our 3 Land Cruisers. Jane was full of energy and bouncing around planning and making sure she knew the lowdown, not in an intruding way, but in a bubbly curious way. I packed our truck's roof and Adar called me Mr. Packmaster DJ. Summer rain tickled our heads; many perturbed since the island is supposed to be all paradisey or whatever, but the excitement was strong and everyone remained gung ho! 33 divided again into 3. Team Goon Wagon piled into our truck. Brad takes control of the speakers and introduces everyone to People Under the Stairs... The Wiz.. how fitting haha. Ada drove like a champ as he led the other groups to the beach. There, a massive green barge plowed right onto the sand. It's mouth gaped open and out-dropped the tongue. One by one the caravan boarded.
As we powered across the channel, everyone stayed dry from inside the Land Cruiser, but something invited me to explore and I obliged. Drizzle became downpour. I spread my wings and smiled up at Mother Nature, showering in her sweet sweet sweat. I climbed the 30ft navigation tower and in the distance, through the stormy grey air and over the stormy black ocean (beneath which tiger sharks were breeding), I saw Fraser Island— a slumbering giant that mumbled vague dreams of adventure.
We landed in a jolt. The barge's loading ramp dropped and the caravan drove off. It was a new feeling. When you experience new things, you often draw parallels to media, for example, I feel like 'James Bond', or perhaps 'Jeff Spicoli', but this was a something else, like Crocodile Hunter meets Mad Maxx in the opening credits. BOOM! awesome.
Downpour became garden hose. Ada was still driving and having a ball overtaking the shoreline. Brado threw on some funky disco. We drove the beach for a solid half hour before reaching the village, which was nothing more than a convenience store and bakery. The 33 of us shuffled out the Land Cruisers and stretched our hams buying random crap. Then we crammed back in and bounced up to Lake Mackenzie and whoeee that drive was dope!
The roads are sand and trampled by trucks everyday; consequently, it's all dippy pot holes, washboard curves and big drops that would total your grandmother's Cadillac. Mix in 4x4s and a howling storm and you've got the bees knees! Every small ridge became a river that splashed high when we romped through. And the dips, aah those dips, inverted waterfalls engulfing our truck. Jane was driving and boy did she hit it hard. Sam called for everyone to look back and sure enough a dingo was moseying across the road.
We arrived in the Mackenzie parking area at 10am. Clothes blew off and swimsuits climbed on. Trotted to the shore and we all just stood there soaking in the spectacle. The shallow water is transparent, but about 30 ft out a steep shelf colors it midnight. The lake is huge and bordered with rainforest. And there we were, Team Goon Wagon, together realizing just how lucky we all were.
The clouds were still watching over, but they halted their drench so we all could joke in mere mist. One of us, I think it was Armand, took off running for the water. He dove in full speed then blasted up shaking water from his face. The rest started wiggling and giggling and we chased after. David borrowed a soccerball from these kind Spaniards and we played the biggest game of circle-volley. Everyone laughed and tried soccer tricks. Haha you can't kick with your foot in the water. I turned away and swam out toward the middle. I floated there on my back getting lost in the powerful sky.
I toweled off standing in white sand. Monstrous ants crawled around a planter box, but they weren't creepy crawly, more like little Fraser drunkards welcoming me to a party.
We went to a picnic table. Mist became sprinkle so we tarped a surly shelter. Pulled down sandwich fix'ns and we grubbed up. The Swiss army knives Brado and me got from A16 were amazing! They chopped tomatoes perfectly and severed twine in a single stroke. Plus, the Israelis are ex-military and were loudly impressed by our gear.
With bellies full we sought out the jungle-park. David drove and almost flipped the damn truck haha! I cooled out with ''2Am'' by Slightly Stoopid. Hard rain made everything glisten when we parked. After touching bases with the other 2 groups, we ventured into the greenery. The first marvel was a fallen eucalyptus. It bridged a yellow river at a gap in the canopy: daylight beamed directly onto it, and that light reflected bouncing droplets, and that water saturated the tree deep brown. I balanced across it while the rain was raining down and the wind was winding everywhere.
We hiked further and came across two more wonders. The first was a rusty engine block. It was atop a precipice 20 minutes in, surrounded by bushes that seemed to be growing away like strangers waiting for a public toilet. The second omen was a display of wooden cobra statues with brail etched on their crowns.
That night we slept on the beach in tents under rain tarps. Setting up a campsite is quite the bonding experience, especially in rain! I volunteered to shimmy up trees and tie twine... my sweatshirt is still stained hazel. The other two groups were interesting to watch. The first was full of belligerent dudes from Brazil, Germany, and Scotland. They were too drunk to put up more than one tarp and ended up sleeping wherever they passed out... inside the car, on the roof of their truck (in the storm), on the dirt (in the storm). The other group was all girls, except for English Matt, that lucky bastard, and their set up was organized and clean and girly.
That night we lived up our name and celebrated with bag-wine (a.k.a. goon). One of the Brazilian guys (who was Japanese by descent and nicknamed 'Japanese') passed out early. The 32 of us took turns drawing obscenities all over him, most of which remained throughout the next day— his stomach read 'Stick It In My Butt'. I commented and he replied “Hey, at least I scrubbed the penises off!” Haha sorry bro, you missed the one on your calf. That day was sunny and warm which was perfect for the agenda of sand-duned lakes. Adar took over the stereo and threw on 'My People' by The Presets.
We drove down the beach to the entrance of Lake Wabby. Trekked 45 minutes through a forest of white-bark trees, many of which were snapped from high winds. This sent my mind racing wondering what it was like to be in THAT storm.
Wabby is incredible at midday. With the sun out and our group becoming family, with a roaring wisp rushing through the treetops, it was a trophy off God's mantle. Armand toppled the massive dune then shouted how great it was. Brad & me shambled up and indeed it was magnificent! We were atop a massive sand dune that sloped sharply into a fresh water lake half surrounded by jungle. But that was to the north, and we were gazing south, over a vast plateau of soft sand that gently found its way into a mountain of verdant jungle.
We were blessed with one of those perfect views, when the universe seems to synchronize and you realize that there, right there, is one of the prettiest places you'll ever be, not necessarily because of its raw beauty (though it was astounding), but because everything you've seen before falls short in comparison; because its one of those rare opportunities where you experience something magical with truly good people, people who you know deep down care about you and you them and only after a short while. At those times the sun doesn't shine but breathes warm sweetness into your whole purpose.
Armand spun around and did somersaults down the dune— must have been at least 100 yards— and plopped into the lake. Haha he couldn't stand for 5 minutes. Bradon attempted the same in cartwheels but after 12 he dizzily fell over. I just hopped down and dove then swam to the other side and really heard the trees hum. I floated there quiet as possible, and a dragonfly flew over and rested on the reed directly in front of me. We had a short conversation, and then he flew circles above my head and returned to the same reed. He was sitting there when I shut my eyes to embrace the silence. Doing so sharpened my vision and I saw everything even brighter. Then I really opened my eyes and my friend was still there. I floundered away and turned back just in time to watch him chase after another dragonfly. I swam to the dune slowly, breathing, listening, smelling, and feeling.
The drunken guy group brought goon to the lake. By that time they were blitzed and singing loud. They spent 30 minutes leap-frogging in the shallows and trying to catch fish with their bare hands. Bradon, Avi, and Armon returned to the summit. They turned back and raced to the bottom, using that speed to launch over the water. I relished the sun.
When my skin felt like it was burning, Jane accompanied me for the trek back and I discovered how amazing she is. She went to Thailand back in 2006 and came back suffering from chronic fatigue. In agony she spent well over a year bedridden. She went to all sorts of doctors but every effort failed. Eventually she tried Eastern medicine and a special woman honed in on Jane's body-vibrations. That doc located a parasite deep inside Jane's ear, killed the little bastard and that was that. When I met Jane she'd been able to walk for just 3 months.
During the trip she'd often wander off for extents. We'd ask where she went and she'd always reply something like “I decided to walk,” or “Enjoying the lake.” It seemed kinda funny at first, but after hearing her story I began noticing her expressions of innocent exuberance. I realized that I'd never met someone so aware. Her entire being was alive and awakened, perhaps like Billy Holiday upon first discovering song. Jane rarely offered poignant words, but instead exemplified a poignant life. Blessed lesson.
That afternoon all 3 trucks parked close and we tarped a picnic. Everyone ate royaly and passed out in shaded beach. The Israelis busted out a frisbee and I'll be damned if there was a more practiced group on the island! Avi would run 70 yards and send that thing straight to David, who'd spin around and catch it and return a perfect bullet without breaking stride, then Avi would jump spin and fire back in equal fluidity. The pair waltzed for a bit and then grew bored. David said they would've kept playing but the frisbee was too heavy; they prefer 'freestyle discs'. What? Frisbees have different types? I thought there were just Budweiser freebees and Padres give-aways. Ya'll are nuts.
We needed a campsite before the tide came in so we hauled ass down the beach. Though it wasn't scheduled for the next day, we decided to stop at the famous shipwreck on the way, and it was incredible.
There we were, standing next to a bloody steam ship sunk decades ago and washed ashore. Most of the innards eroded away and now just a clunk of vague memories remained. I thought of it's purpose, and the sailors who worked it, and wondered what they discussed and how they joked, and how many were trapped below deck when it sank, and if any survived, and if some did, well then, how were they rescued? I mean, for gawd sakes that ocean is filled with breeding tiger sharks and deadly jelly fish. And it's so damn salty you can't swim in it longer than a few hours. It was like seeing the artifact of a burnt house, only on a massive scale, and not really depressing at all, but rather, beautiful and wonderful. 'Spiritual' is really the only way I can articulate such things.
We moved onto the campsite. Clouds were fluffy and sparse, but everyone insisted that rain was looming so we tied up the tarps. The girl group did as well but the guys decided to just start drinking. It was our final night and the frantic fizziness of something great ending exploded in everyone. Adar and I rolled out a tarp and Armand breakdanced; we told Japanese to join but he was far too hammered. Dinner was prepared on gas stoves and finished off with drinking games. 20+ sat in a circle playing 'I Have Never'. There were so many people and everyone got drunk very, very fast. Especially the Danish girls, they seemed to have DONE IT ALL. Apparently I necked with Jasmine from Switzerland, then chased a dingo, climbed into a tent stark naked and passed out by an open bonfire. Score me. Old Lee from Rhotorua was right: if you air up an empty bag of goon it IS a great pillow... Brado was stoked.
Morning comes and The Goonies are still slammed. We pack like blindfolded fat kids using cake batter to build a Darth Vader bust. Ludo claims sobriety. Nice. Our agenda consists of two things: 1. go to a look out point and ride cardboard boxes down sand dunes, and 2. catch the ferry at 11am. Easier said than done when you're sloshed.
Ludo mans the helm and we jet to the look-out. We arrive speachless: cliff towers into the salty ocean; a rocky finger rising from the sand stretching out toward the mainland. We hike the backhand and carfefully find the fingertip. It's so high above the water. I gaze over the side and notice several eye-shaped shadows wading below. Sharks. Audrey spots a sea turtle surface and everyone watches... guys cheer for it eaten, girls whine for it spared. But the sharks ignore and English Matt yells down "You sharks are all pussies!" Sam sees dolphins rolling through the horizon, then Adar spots several more to the left and we all sit around blissed out.
10am sun and we're far from the ferry landing. No time to ride dunes so Bradon drops the cardboard on cliffside rocks and breakdances, then brings em down to the truck. Tides rising again so we haul ass down the beach. Dust cloud yells behind as Ada drives like he stole Apollo's chariot. A plane lands on the beach and we drift around it to keep trucking. Adar checks the map and notices a shallow river meets the pacific in a few Km. Let's do it.
We arrive and fall out in excited hurry. Jane and I, we sprint the river splashing up cool water. Ankles kick high ane we run and race through the creak never turning back. We dart pass obese Germans and dodge water-winged children and skimpy-clad men. Together we laugh the river then stop and turn. I jump grab a branch and splash back into fresh water. Surface and Jane play-faints back smile beaming. We lie there feeling the current paint us, only thigh deep so our hands brace the riverbed, our faces peer through the water framed in clarity.
I twist down into the lucid liquid and open my eyes' soul. Big fish had excited away and now just little tikes fluttered round. I surface head back and ass then crawl like a gentle lizard; the surge of a lazy pool flows me foreword. Stand at the mouth and peacefully walk to where Adar, Sam, and Brad are escaping the sun from inside the Land Cruiser. The other Goonies soon appear. I jump shotty and boom! off we go Audry driving fast. We arrive the ferry as rain clouds approach the Fraser shore.
[click on an image for a bigger version]
Dingo!
Dingo!
Entrance to Lake Mackenzie
Flipping around
Biggest ants ever!
Slippery rainforest
Brado climbing trees
Me balancing that fallen eucalyptus
Japanese passed out with writing all over him
Lake Wabby
The wreck!
Adventure 16 is the best!
Brado, Jane, Avi, Sam, Audrey, Ludo, Adar, Me, Ada, Armand, David
Jane's crazed excitement set the tone. She was all giddy and totally infatuated with everything. The rest were stoked too, but her raw energy was so empowering. I called her Jane of Arc. As a self-proclaimed 'foodie' she leaped at the opportunity to organize the 3 day grocery list. Nobody really cared what we ate, except, of course, for the Israelis' deference toward pork.
Now, before you can set foot on the world's biggest sand island, the Australian government requires watching a duet of 10 minute videos that advise not feeding dingoes, avoiding goanna dragons, not entering the ocean because of rip currents, and tiger sharks breed out there, and deadly box jelly fish do whatever jelly fish do even in the shallows. They say the streams are fresh water and drinkable, and finally, they give a short lesson in driving on the beach. We received all that info at our hostel communal area 4pm the evening prior.
Eventually there would be 33 of us, but only 31 were there that night. We were divided into 3 groups: ours consisted of 4 Israelis (Avi, Ada, Adar, and David), a French couple (Ludo and Audrey), 2 Canadians (Armand and Sam), and 1 Aussie (Jane). The 11 of us decided on 'Team Goon Wagon', and a great synergy emerged as we became acquainted with one another and planned out the meals.
At 6am the next morning, I slipped out the top bunk and over to the shower. The next 60 minutes were an eye-crusted ride landing me in the front parking lot. All were there, including last night's absentees and our 3 Land Cruisers. Jane was full of energy and bouncing around planning and making sure she knew the lowdown, not in an intruding way, but in a bubbly curious way. I packed our truck's roof and Adar called me Mr. Packmaster DJ. Summer rain tickled our heads; many perturbed since the island is supposed to be all paradisey or whatever, but the excitement was strong and everyone remained gung ho! 33 divided again into 3. Team Goon Wagon piled into our truck. Brad takes control of the speakers and introduces everyone to People Under the Stairs... The Wiz.. how fitting haha. Ada drove like a champ as he led the other groups to the beach. There, a massive green barge plowed right onto the sand. It's mouth gaped open and out-dropped the tongue. One by one the caravan boarded.
As we powered across the channel, everyone stayed dry from inside the Land Cruiser, but something invited me to explore and I obliged. Drizzle became downpour. I spread my wings and smiled up at Mother Nature, showering in her sweet sweet sweat. I climbed the 30ft navigation tower and in the distance, through the stormy grey air and over the stormy black ocean (beneath which tiger sharks were breeding), I saw Fraser Island— a slumbering giant that mumbled vague dreams of adventure.
We landed in a jolt. The barge's loading ramp dropped and the caravan drove off. It was a new feeling. When you experience new things, you often draw parallels to media, for example, I feel like 'James Bond', or perhaps 'Jeff Spicoli', but this was a something else, like Crocodile Hunter meets Mad Maxx in the opening credits. BOOM! awesome.
Downpour became garden hose. Ada was still driving and having a ball overtaking the shoreline. Brado threw on some funky disco. We drove the beach for a solid half hour before reaching the village, which was nothing more than a convenience store and bakery. The 33 of us shuffled out the Land Cruisers and stretched our hams buying random crap. Then we crammed back in and bounced up to Lake Mackenzie and whoeee that drive was dope!
The roads are sand and trampled by trucks everyday; consequently, it's all dippy pot holes, washboard curves and big drops that would total your grandmother's Cadillac. Mix in 4x4s and a howling storm and you've got the bees knees! Every small ridge became a river that splashed high when we romped through. And the dips, aah those dips, inverted waterfalls engulfing our truck. Jane was driving and boy did she hit it hard. Sam called for everyone to look back and sure enough a dingo was moseying across the road.
We arrived in the Mackenzie parking area at 10am. Clothes blew off and swimsuits climbed on. Trotted to the shore and we all just stood there soaking in the spectacle. The shallow water is transparent, but about 30 ft out a steep shelf colors it midnight. The lake is huge and bordered with rainforest. And there we were, Team Goon Wagon, together realizing just how lucky we all were.
The clouds were still watching over, but they halted their drench so we all could joke in mere mist. One of us, I think it was Armand, took off running for the water. He dove in full speed then blasted up shaking water from his face. The rest started wiggling and giggling and we chased after. David borrowed a soccerball from these kind Spaniards and we played the biggest game of circle-volley. Everyone laughed and tried soccer tricks. Haha you can't kick with your foot in the water. I turned away and swam out toward the middle. I floated there on my back getting lost in the powerful sky.
I toweled off standing in white sand. Monstrous ants crawled around a planter box, but they weren't creepy crawly, more like little Fraser drunkards welcoming me to a party.
We went to a picnic table. Mist became sprinkle so we tarped a surly shelter. Pulled down sandwich fix'ns and we grubbed up. The Swiss army knives Brado and me got from A16 were amazing! They chopped tomatoes perfectly and severed twine in a single stroke. Plus, the Israelis are ex-military and were loudly impressed by our gear.
With bellies full we sought out the jungle-park. David drove and almost flipped the damn truck haha! I cooled out with ''2Am'' by Slightly Stoopid. Hard rain made everything glisten when we parked. After touching bases with the other 2 groups, we ventured into the greenery. The first marvel was a fallen eucalyptus. It bridged a yellow river at a gap in the canopy: daylight beamed directly onto it, and that light reflected bouncing droplets, and that water saturated the tree deep brown. I balanced across it while the rain was raining down and the wind was winding everywhere.
We hiked further and came across two more wonders. The first was a rusty engine block. It was atop a precipice 20 minutes in, surrounded by bushes that seemed to be growing away like strangers waiting for a public toilet. The second omen was a display of wooden cobra statues with brail etched on their crowns.
That night we slept on the beach in tents under rain tarps. Setting up a campsite is quite the bonding experience, especially in rain! I volunteered to shimmy up trees and tie twine... my sweatshirt is still stained hazel. The other two groups were interesting to watch. The first was full of belligerent dudes from Brazil, Germany, and Scotland. They were too drunk to put up more than one tarp and ended up sleeping wherever they passed out... inside the car, on the roof of their truck (in the storm), on the dirt (in the storm). The other group was all girls, except for English Matt, that lucky bastard, and their set up was organized and clean and girly.
That night we lived up our name and celebrated with bag-wine (a.k.a. goon). One of the Brazilian guys (who was Japanese by descent and nicknamed 'Japanese') passed out early. The 32 of us took turns drawing obscenities all over him, most of which remained throughout the next day— his stomach read 'Stick It In My Butt'. I commented and he replied “Hey, at least I scrubbed the penises off!” Haha sorry bro, you missed the one on your calf. That day was sunny and warm which was perfect for the agenda of sand-duned lakes. Adar took over the stereo and threw on 'My People' by The Presets.
We drove down the beach to the entrance of Lake Wabby. Trekked 45 minutes through a forest of white-bark trees, many of which were snapped from high winds. This sent my mind racing wondering what it was like to be in THAT storm.
Wabby is incredible at midday. With the sun out and our group becoming family, with a roaring wisp rushing through the treetops, it was a trophy off God's mantle. Armand toppled the massive dune then shouted how great it was. Brad & me shambled up and indeed it was magnificent! We were atop a massive sand dune that sloped sharply into a fresh water lake half surrounded by jungle. But that was to the north, and we were gazing south, over a vast plateau of soft sand that gently found its way into a mountain of verdant jungle.
We were blessed with one of those perfect views, when the universe seems to synchronize and you realize that there, right there, is one of the prettiest places you'll ever be, not necessarily because of its raw beauty (though it was astounding), but because everything you've seen before falls short in comparison; because its one of those rare opportunities where you experience something magical with truly good people, people who you know deep down care about you and you them and only after a short while. At those times the sun doesn't shine but breathes warm sweetness into your whole purpose.
Armand spun around and did somersaults down the dune— must have been at least 100 yards— and plopped into the lake. Haha he couldn't stand for 5 minutes. Bradon attempted the same in cartwheels but after 12 he dizzily fell over. I just hopped down and dove then swam to the other side and really heard the trees hum. I floated there quiet as possible, and a dragonfly flew over and rested on the reed directly in front of me. We had a short conversation, and then he flew circles above my head and returned to the same reed. He was sitting there when I shut my eyes to embrace the silence. Doing so sharpened my vision and I saw everything even brighter. Then I really opened my eyes and my friend was still there. I floundered away and turned back just in time to watch him chase after another dragonfly. I swam to the dune slowly, breathing, listening, smelling, and feeling.
The drunken guy group brought goon to the lake. By that time they were blitzed and singing loud. They spent 30 minutes leap-frogging in the shallows and trying to catch fish with their bare hands. Bradon, Avi, and Armon returned to the summit. They turned back and raced to the bottom, using that speed to launch over the water. I relished the sun.
When my skin felt like it was burning, Jane accompanied me for the trek back and I discovered how amazing she is. She went to Thailand back in 2006 and came back suffering from chronic fatigue. In agony she spent well over a year bedridden. She went to all sorts of doctors but every effort failed. Eventually she tried Eastern medicine and a special woman honed in on Jane's body-vibrations. That doc located a parasite deep inside Jane's ear, killed the little bastard and that was that. When I met Jane she'd been able to walk for just 3 months.
During the trip she'd often wander off for extents. We'd ask where she went and she'd always reply something like “I decided to walk,” or “Enjoying the lake.” It seemed kinda funny at first, but after hearing her story I began noticing her expressions of innocent exuberance. I realized that I'd never met someone so aware. Her entire being was alive and awakened, perhaps like Billy Holiday upon first discovering song. Jane rarely offered poignant words, but instead exemplified a poignant life. Blessed lesson.
That afternoon all 3 trucks parked close and we tarped a picnic. Everyone ate royaly and passed out in shaded beach. The Israelis busted out a frisbee and I'll be damned if there was a more practiced group on the island! Avi would run 70 yards and send that thing straight to David, who'd spin around and catch it and return a perfect bullet without breaking stride, then Avi would jump spin and fire back in equal fluidity. The pair waltzed for a bit and then grew bored. David said they would've kept playing but the frisbee was too heavy; they prefer 'freestyle discs'. What? Frisbees have different types? I thought there were just Budweiser freebees and Padres give-aways. Ya'll are nuts.
We needed a campsite before the tide came in so we hauled ass down the beach. Though it wasn't scheduled for the next day, we decided to stop at the famous shipwreck on the way, and it was incredible.
There we were, standing next to a bloody steam ship sunk decades ago and washed ashore. Most of the innards eroded away and now just a clunk of vague memories remained. I thought of it's purpose, and the sailors who worked it, and wondered what they discussed and how they joked, and how many were trapped below deck when it sank, and if any survived, and if some did, well then, how were they rescued? I mean, for gawd sakes that ocean is filled with breeding tiger sharks and deadly jelly fish. And it's so damn salty you can't swim in it longer than a few hours. It was like seeing the artifact of a burnt house, only on a massive scale, and not really depressing at all, but rather, beautiful and wonderful. 'Spiritual' is really the only way I can articulate such things.
We moved onto the campsite. Clouds were fluffy and sparse, but everyone insisted that rain was looming so we tied up the tarps. The girl group did as well but the guys decided to just start drinking. It was our final night and the frantic fizziness of something great ending exploded in everyone. Adar and I rolled out a tarp and Armand breakdanced; we told Japanese to join but he was far too hammered. Dinner was prepared on gas stoves and finished off with drinking games. 20+ sat in a circle playing 'I Have Never'. There were so many people and everyone got drunk very, very fast. Especially the Danish girls, they seemed to have DONE IT ALL. Apparently I necked with Jasmine from Switzerland, then chased a dingo, climbed into a tent stark naked and passed out by an open bonfire. Score me. Old Lee from Rhotorua was right: if you air up an empty bag of goon it IS a great pillow... Brado was stoked.
Morning comes and The Goonies are still slammed. We pack like blindfolded fat kids using cake batter to build a Darth Vader bust. Ludo claims sobriety. Nice. Our agenda consists of two things: 1. go to a look out point and ride cardboard boxes down sand dunes, and 2. catch the ferry at 11am. Easier said than done when you're sloshed.
Ludo mans the helm and we jet to the look-out. We arrive speachless: cliff towers into the salty ocean; a rocky finger rising from the sand stretching out toward the mainland. We hike the backhand and carfefully find the fingertip. It's so high above the water. I gaze over the side and notice several eye-shaped shadows wading below. Sharks. Audrey spots a sea turtle surface and everyone watches... guys cheer for it eaten, girls whine for it spared. But the sharks ignore and English Matt yells down "You sharks are all pussies!" Sam sees dolphins rolling through the horizon, then Adar spots several more to the left and we all sit around blissed out.
10am sun and we're far from the ferry landing. No time to ride dunes so Bradon drops the cardboard on cliffside rocks and breakdances, then brings em down to the truck. Tides rising again so we haul ass down the beach. Dust cloud yells behind as Ada drives like he stole Apollo's chariot. A plane lands on the beach and we drift around it to keep trucking. Adar checks the map and notices a shallow river meets the pacific in a few Km. Let's do it.
We arrive and fall out in excited hurry. Jane and I, we sprint the river splashing up cool water. Ankles kick high ane we run and race through the creak never turning back. We dart pass obese Germans and dodge water-winged children and skimpy-clad men. Together we laugh the river then stop and turn. I jump grab a branch and splash back into fresh water. Surface and Jane play-faints back smile beaming. We lie there feeling the current paint us, only thigh deep so our hands brace the riverbed, our faces peer through the water framed in clarity.
I twist down into the lucid liquid and open my eyes' soul. Big fish had excited away and now just little tikes fluttered round. I surface head back and ass then crawl like a gentle lizard; the surge of a lazy pool flows me foreword. Stand at the mouth and peacefully walk to where Adar, Sam, and Brad are escaping the sun from inside the Land Cruiser. The other Goonies soon appear. I jump shotty and boom! off we go Audry driving fast. We arrive the ferry as rain clouds approach the Fraser shore.
[click on an image for a bigger version]
Dingo!
Dingo!
Entrance to Lake Mackenzie
Flipping around
Biggest ants ever!
Slippery rainforest
Brado climbing trees
Me balancing that fallen eucalyptus
Japanese passed out with writing all over him
Lake Wabby
The wreck!
Adventure 16 is the best!
Brado, Jane, Avi, Sam, Audrey, Ludo, Adar, Me, Ada, Armand, David
Saturday, November 15, 2008
[Day 52] 1770 Chopper Ride
1770 is a horrible place to visit to be blunt...that's unless you want to drive a mini-chopper around even if you dont have a motorcycle license. The town of 1770 is our equivalent to white trash, and its bloody hot as hell. Most tourists don't go there and we haven't met any backpackers that spent more than 2 nights there. That being said, the chopper ride was worth the stop in this poor excuse for a tourist destination.
The chopper tour company is owned and opperated by the coolest South African guy. This dude is pushing 60, I would guess, but he still pulls off the bad-ass biker look to a T. Bandana, handle bar mustache, long grey hair; the whole 9! He's the nicest guy you'll ever meet and his accent is one of the coolest I've heard yet, and that's saying a lot! Pretty much all you do is pay this guy $40, you pick your chopper (I got the one with flames, Garrett chose the American flag one before I did...damn him!) he gives you a 5 minute briefing on how to ride a motorcycle and you are off! The bikes themselves are not real Choppers, they are only 50cc's, but they look like Choppers and you feel like you are riding a motorcyle. Our group had about 25 people in it; it was pretty cool looking back feeling like you were in a biker gang or something. The tour he takes you on is about 3 hours so we got a good amount of cruising in. The max speed you reach is about 50 mph, which isn't crazy but it felt pretty damn fast having never rode a motorbike before.
Our first stop was at a house with a microwave as a mailbox (the home of hotmail...haha, I'm sooo gay). We stopped here because a bunch of Kangaroos hang out in Hotmail's front yard! Our guide told us to approach them carefully as they will let you get close if you do so. As we were approaching the group of Roo's a massive one came out of the woodwork and hopped right by in front of us. This guy was HUGE, I'm not even kidding, he was at least 6 feet tall! If you've never seen a Roo jump around in person, it is the coolest thing. It doesn't look that cool on tv, but in real life it is mesmerizing. Oh ya, their hands are really small which provides great comic relief... haha! We approached the group of Roo's and got within about 10 feet from them, snapped some good photos and were off.
Next we headed for the bay and cruised around the brim of it which was awesome because the sun was beginning to go down. We all stopped at a nearby cafe and got chips (fries) and a drink, then chilled out on some nearby rocks and watched the beautiful sunset. After the sun conceded it was time to head back before it got too dark. The bugs started to come out at this point and I got a few to the face on the way back which hurt like hell. It was a great experience riding a Chopper, thats one more thing I can say I've done after this trip I guess. Garrett is hell-bent on getting one now and riding across The States, but I'm not surprised!
The chopper tour company is owned and opperated by the coolest South African guy. This dude is pushing 60, I would guess, but he still pulls off the bad-ass biker look to a T. Bandana, handle bar mustache, long grey hair; the whole 9! He's the nicest guy you'll ever meet and his accent is one of the coolest I've heard yet, and that's saying a lot! Pretty much all you do is pay this guy $40, you pick your chopper (I got the one with flames, Garrett chose the American flag one before I did...damn him!) he gives you a 5 minute briefing on how to ride a motorcycle and you are off! The bikes themselves are not real Choppers, they are only 50cc's, but they look like Choppers and you feel like you are riding a motorcyle. Our group had about 25 people in it; it was pretty cool looking back feeling like you were in a biker gang or something. The tour he takes you on is about 3 hours so we got a good amount of cruising in. The max speed you reach is about 50 mph, which isn't crazy but it felt pretty damn fast having never rode a motorbike before.
Our first stop was at a house with a microwave as a mailbox (the home of hotmail...haha, I'm sooo gay). We stopped here because a bunch of Kangaroos hang out in Hotmail's front yard! Our guide told us to approach them carefully as they will let you get close if you do so. As we were approaching the group of Roo's a massive one came out of the woodwork and hopped right by in front of us. This guy was HUGE, I'm not even kidding, he was at least 6 feet tall! If you've never seen a Roo jump around in person, it is the coolest thing. It doesn't look that cool on tv, but in real life it is mesmerizing. Oh ya, their hands are really small which provides great comic relief... haha! We approached the group of Roo's and got within about 10 feet from them, snapped some good photos and were off.
Next we headed for the bay and cruised around the brim of it which was awesome because the sun was beginning to go down. We all stopped at a nearby cafe and got chips (fries) and a drink, then chilled out on some nearby rocks and watched the beautiful sunset. After the sun conceded it was time to head back before it got too dark. The bugs started to come out at this point and I got a few to the face on the way back which hurt like hell. It was a great experience riding a Chopper, thats one more thing I can say I've done after this trip I guess. Garrett is hell-bent on getting one now and riding across The States, but I'm not surprised!
Friday, November 14, 2008
[Days 48-51] Whitsundays
***While in OZ, we picked up quite a few sayings and incorpoated them into our daily lives and we figured we would share them with you guys:
G'd on ya...Good for you; Straight away...Right away/Right after; How's you going?...How are you doing?; Heaps...A lot; Get Pissed/get on the piss/pissed up...Get Drunk; Whattaya after?...What would you like?; Bloke...Aussie Male; Chunder from Downunder...Throw up; Youre a Knob!...You are an idiot!
Stephen Marley "The Traffic Jam"
{Today is Dec 8th, our 3rd day in Bali. We're staying in the booming town of Kuta. Our 3 week itinerary is likely to include: countless surfspots and temples, art and yoga in the mountains, hikes in the monkey forest, $7 massages twice a day from spunky little Emale, tour of the Gili islands, sailing surf safari, and a volcano hike at sunrise. Today I put my life on the line and rented a scooter. Good gawd was it gnarly. Write about that soon enough. First things first... More tales from Oz. Here's what happened up until November 19}
Whitsundays is a chain of 74 islands on the North-Eastern coast. We spent 3 days on an 80ft sailboat exploring the region. Everyday we snorkeled, and everynight we lounged under the tropical full moon sky.
It is the first evening. Silent light from outer-space funnels through the deckhatch; beams of clairvoyant blue enter through two rectangular windows; those juxtaposed rays penetrate the darkness of the cabin, manifesting angelic magic and revealing the following situation:
I lie awake with her tucked in my arms. Her body warm, her skin silk. This bunk is a sauna. A bead of sweat perspires from my brow, but I decide to continue our embrace rather than cool down. When sunbathing, she wears a g-string bikini— she sleeps in bottoms tonight. The other 26 passengers are trying to sleep through the snores of Paddy, the hilarious Scottsman. He's in the back cabin, but I can hear him all the way out here in the common area; a draped beach towell gives my bunk privacy. I stare at the bed above me and reflect on the day:
“We set sail at 9am. It only took 30 minutes to reach this place. Man! Bradon, me, and 4 other people cranked up the sails and my arms are still sore. On the way out the wind blew so hard. The boat sailed on it's side most of the way! I crawled to the railing on the lower side and used my feet to paint pictures in the rushing water.
“Our first snorkel spot was Hook Bay. Greg the deckhand hopped in the blue zodiac and drove groups to the reef, which was alongside a mountain of serenity— those eroded boulders really took my breath away! When we arrived at the dive spot, I splashed back into the water just like a navy seal. Then, I sorted out my mask and what not and started breathing as slowwwly as possible, really trying to calm my energy 'n' all that shit. I just let the current put me where it wanted. And there I was, really IN IT, floating around in the ocean, staying mellow to not spook all the fish. I just let 'em all swim around and check me out. Then I'd dive down between the rocks and see what's underneath it all, see what kinds of little tikes were hanging out on the sea floor, ask 'em if they wanted to come out and play— no one wanted to until Greg started tossing biscuits into the water.
“And boy did those fish like that! Whole schools would rush over! 3 times a lemon-yellow one swam straight into my mask. One even nibbled Julie's toe. That coral was something else. Skipper (a.k.a. Big Belly to the French girls Aurro & Maribel) said that sporing begins on the first full moon in November. Damn are we lucky!
"The slice on my foot is burning like a son-of-a-bitch, but swimming down through that cave was worth it! Fuck if I only didn't kick the reef on my way out; it was so deep and I needed air so bad. But man, looking into that deep hole was spiritual. Three angel fish the size of my torso!
“We drank bag wine tonight, but not as much as everyone else. It's funny how that's the token backpacker beverage. Everyone calls it goon. 'Oooh so much goooon last night.' they always say, or, 'Hey mate! Getting on the piss with the goon?' Back in Rhotorua, Lee told us that when you drink an entire 4L bag, you can blow air into it and use it as a pillow. Woah dude.
“The boat crew is obsessed with reggae. They were so stoked when I threw on Traffic Jam. Greg did a rubix cube without looking. He was all 'Hey Garrett! Wanna see somethin crazy?' Do I ever! 'Mix this up and I'll fix it with out looking.' Shut the hell up bro, give it to me. And that's what he did and I spent 7 minutes mixing it up as tricky as possible. 'Check this out' he said and he stared me right in the eyes as he sorted the thing back out— took him just 4 minutes!
"Her and I gently sway with the boat; I hear tender swells splash against the hull; the striped lighting down here really is a dream: the bright bright moon, the enchanting twilight. This is it. Damn! This is really it!”
Moonrise
The next morning we rose with the sun. The crew immediately prepared an extravagant breakfast and we lathered up in sunblock. Not a cloud in the sky. Big Belly recited the day's agenda and we sailed over to world famous Whithaven beach.
Whithaven is the most beautiful beach in the Whitsundays, and I say that because every postcard of the islands is of this beach. It's massive. To start off the tour, Greg drove everyone over in the zodiac. We were lead to a lookout point and got absolutely stunned by the view. Scottie, another deckhand, was our tourguide and he was ridiculous. As we hiked up, he yelled out things most people couldn't understand because of the language barrier. Things like, “If anyone spots a fanged purple bear yell and I'll trap him in my sack" , "The Aboriginals built these stairs 2 million years ago, they also invented stainless steel, nails, and the sandwich" , "Hey! The sand on the beach would LOVE to fuck your camera!” and “Take pictures of the beach, or just my face, it's much more beautiful.”
After 20 minutes we trotted down to that incredible beach. The sand is white silica and literally softer than chalk. It's prettier than most places in Sport's Illustrated SE, so everyone had their own gay little photo shoot. We explored volcanic rocks, checked out tide pools, talked to some random Norwegians, one of which got stung on the neck by a deadly box jelly fish and nearly died.
Volcanic rocks bordering bliss...when I took this photo my feet were beside tidepools
The rest of the trip was full of awe. Sail boat vacations are all that and then some.
G'd on ya...Good for you; Straight away...Right away/Right after; How's you going?...How are you doing?; Heaps...A lot; Get Pissed/get on the piss/pissed up...Get Drunk; Whattaya after?...What would you like?; Bloke...Aussie Male; Chunder from Downunder...Throw up; Youre a Knob!...You are an idiot!
Stephen Marley "The Traffic Jam"
{Today is Dec 8th, our 3rd day in Bali. We're staying in the booming town of Kuta. Our 3 week itinerary is likely to include: countless surfspots and temples, art and yoga in the mountains, hikes in the monkey forest, $7 massages twice a day from spunky little Emale, tour of the Gili islands, sailing surf safari, and a volcano hike at sunrise. Today I put my life on the line and rented a scooter. Good gawd was it gnarly. Write about that soon enough. First things first... More tales from Oz. Here's what happened up until November 19}
Whitsundays is a chain of 74 islands on the North-Eastern coast. We spent 3 days on an 80ft sailboat exploring the region. Everyday we snorkeled, and everynight we lounged under the tropical full moon sky.
It is the first evening. Silent light from outer-space funnels through the deckhatch; beams of clairvoyant blue enter through two rectangular windows; those juxtaposed rays penetrate the darkness of the cabin, manifesting angelic magic and revealing the following situation:
I lie awake with her tucked in my arms. Her body warm, her skin silk. This bunk is a sauna. A bead of sweat perspires from my brow, but I decide to continue our embrace rather than cool down. When sunbathing, she wears a g-string bikini— she sleeps in bottoms tonight. The other 26 passengers are trying to sleep through the snores of Paddy, the hilarious Scottsman. He's in the back cabin, but I can hear him all the way out here in the common area; a draped beach towell gives my bunk privacy. I stare at the bed above me and reflect on the day:
“We set sail at 9am. It only took 30 minutes to reach this place. Man! Bradon, me, and 4 other people cranked up the sails and my arms are still sore. On the way out the wind blew so hard. The boat sailed on it's side most of the way! I crawled to the railing on the lower side and used my feet to paint pictures in the rushing water.
“Our first snorkel spot was Hook Bay. Greg the deckhand hopped in the blue zodiac and drove groups to the reef, which was alongside a mountain of serenity— those eroded boulders really took my breath away! When we arrived at the dive spot, I splashed back into the water just like a navy seal. Then, I sorted out my mask and what not and started breathing as slowwwly as possible, really trying to calm my energy 'n' all that shit. I just let the current put me where it wanted. And there I was, really IN IT, floating around in the ocean, staying mellow to not spook all the fish. I just let 'em all swim around and check me out. Then I'd dive down between the rocks and see what's underneath it all, see what kinds of little tikes were hanging out on the sea floor, ask 'em if they wanted to come out and play— no one wanted to until Greg started tossing biscuits into the water.
“And boy did those fish like that! Whole schools would rush over! 3 times a lemon-yellow one swam straight into my mask. One even nibbled Julie's toe. That coral was something else. Skipper (a.k.a. Big Belly to the French girls Aurro & Maribel) said that sporing begins on the first full moon in November. Damn are we lucky!
"The slice on my foot is burning like a son-of-a-bitch, but swimming down through that cave was worth it! Fuck if I only didn't kick the reef on my way out; it was so deep and I needed air so bad. But man, looking into that deep hole was spiritual. Three angel fish the size of my torso!
“We drank bag wine tonight, but not as much as everyone else. It's funny how that's the token backpacker beverage. Everyone calls it goon. 'Oooh so much goooon last night.' they always say, or, 'Hey mate! Getting on the piss with the goon?' Back in Rhotorua, Lee told us that when you drink an entire 4L bag, you can blow air into it and use it as a pillow. Woah dude.
“The boat crew is obsessed with reggae. They were so stoked when I threw on Traffic Jam. Greg did a rubix cube without looking. He was all 'Hey Garrett! Wanna see somethin crazy?' Do I ever! 'Mix this up and I'll fix it with out looking.' Shut the hell up bro, give it to me. And that's what he did and I spent 7 minutes mixing it up as tricky as possible. 'Check this out' he said and he stared me right in the eyes as he sorted the thing back out— took him just 4 minutes!
"Her and I gently sway with the boat; I hear tender swells splash against the hull; the striped lighting down here really is a dream: the bright bright moon, the enchanting twilight. This is it. Damn! This is really it!”
Moonrise
The next morning we rose with the sun. The crew immediately prepared an extravagant breakfast and we lathered up in sunblock. Not a cloud in the sky. Big Belly recited the day's agenda and we sailed over to world famous Whithaven beach.
Whithaven is the most beautiful beach in the Whitsundays, and I say that because every postcard of the islands is of this beach. It's massive. To start off the tour, Greg drove everyone over in the zodiac. We were lead to a lookout point and got absolutely stunned by the view. Scottie, another deckhand, was our tourguide and he was ridiculous. As we hiked up, he yelled out things most people couldn't understand because of the language barrier. Things like, “If anyone spots a fanged purple bear yell and I'll trap him in my sack" , "The Aboriginals built these stairs 2 million years ago, they also invented stainless steel, nails, and the sandwich" , "Hey! The sand on the beach would LOVE to fuck your camera!” and “Take pictures of the beach, or just my face, it's much more beautiful.”
After 20 minutes we trotted down to that incredible beach. The sand is white silica and literally softer than chalk. It's prettier than most places in Sport's Illustrated SE, so everyone had their own gay little photo shoot. We explored volcanic rocks, checked out tide pools, talked to some random Norwegians, one of which got stung on the neck by a deadly box jelly fish and nearly died.
Volcanic rocks bordering bliss...when I took this photo my feet were beside tidepools
The rest of the trip was full of awe. Sail boat vacations are all that and then some.
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