The flight out on the 20th of July 2002 was good; Wellington was not it’s usual windy self, which is always nice if you are taking off or landing. The plane was almost empty, and I got a superb view of the red sunset reflecting off the top of clouds. Melbourne was looking grey on arrival, and dark by the time the bus passed through the “Gateway to Melbourne” sculpture.
21st July was a perfect, bright, sunny day when I woke early, although a little colder than I expected at 16deg C. I soon found that Target are an excellent source of fleeces at 15$ (all prices in $AUS, divide by 3 for UK pounds), and snuggly warm now, decide to check out the most excellent swimming pool as a good start to each day, made even more excellent by being free to YHA members.
First on the itinerary was a trip to the famous Queen Victoria market. It’s bloody massive! Biggest market I have ever seen, with every single variety of everything you could wish for, from fruit and veg to didg’s, and inside the even more Victorian food section, endless stalls selling olives, strong cheeses, germane sausage, wine etc most of it organic.
Then there was the meat hall. And the dairy hall. In all, I spend two hours just walking and gawping.
All that food made me hungry, so I settled down for a little breakfast at on of the many street cafes, not just to eat, but to listen to the fat Italian mammas arguing over their espresso, or the moustached Germans guffawing in between mouthfulls of sauerkraut-laden bratwurst.
All in native tongues of course.
This appears to be one of the few places on earth that does multiculturalism well.
As I munched away, stared up at the amazing Victorian (in both senses of the word) brownstone buildings and felt the warm antipodean sunshine on the back of my neck, I was already decided that Oz was worth a repeat visit at some future time.
I decided to go for a massive wander round the city, and by chance came upon one of the world’s greatest museums, the Melbourne Museum. I only had 2½ hours to look around this place, which is about half as much as I needed. The exhibits are clear, bright, and very informative, and for a couple of extra dollars, I tacked on a visit to the IMAX, allegedly the worlds biggest screen, where I saw the new 3D IMAX film about the building of the Euro Space Station, and I have to admit, Earth looks pretty good from up there.
I wandered along one of the “cafe streets”, which have just taken a character of their own…it seemed I was walking along “Pizza street”. Eating out al-fresco is very big in Melbourne, even in the winter, where heated umbrellas ensure full pavements of warm, happy punters all year round.
I bought a bus/train/tram pass, and made my way out to St Kilda beach, which is where all the chic and the rich live. A real seaside town, and what with the Luna Park fairground on the beach, it reminded me of some of the West Coast beach resort towns in California. That night, I was going to go and “See the stars of Neighbours”, as Harold was supposed to be there. Harold is cool, and he’s the only one I remember as I stopped watching it about 15 years ago. But sadly, due to “commitments”, Harold was replaced by Dr Karl, whoever he was.
So, instead, I wandered back towards Crown Casino, which is large and lavish enough to give some of the mega-casinos in Las Vegas a run for their money, including a vast lobby with fountains which dance to music, a light show, and a ceiling with massive chandeliers which just appear out of rods of glass. Very expensive, not that there is any shortage of gullible punters to pay of it all.
Bryson on the Crown Casino: (P207-9)
“I can say with confidence that whoever won the contract for the carpet has not had to work since. It took 20 minutes to stroll from one end of the room to the other. The amazing thing was the business and strange intensity.
It was barely lunchtime and perhaps 2,000 gamblers were already in devoted attendance. Hardly a pit or machine wasn’t in fully active service. I had never seen anything on this scale outside Las Vegas [...]. “Spectacular gamblers”, [Carmel] whispered. She gave a wan smile. ‘It’s huge business. A billion dollars a year goes through here. Victoria gets 15 percent of all it’s revenues from gambling.’
I thought for a moment That must be hundreds of millions of dollars. ‘So how many casinos are there in the state?’ I asked.
‘You’re in it’, she said.
After that, it was a trip up to the Melbourne Skytower, which provided the usual glimpse over the city…very good for getting oriented, if you can remember what it all looks like when you are back on the ground.
Next day I explored town, and found Myer, apparently one of the worlds largest department stores….it is HUGE!!! It covers over 2 blocks, and takes several minutes to walk from one end to the other.
Another store I discovered was the Grace Brothers department store. Yes, really!
As I walked towards the entrance, there walked in front of me possibly the finest woman ever created, perfect in every curve, and with the longest smoothest legs. As we walked under the “Grace Brothers” sign, I so longed for her to turn round and say “Are You Being Served?”!
While walking around, I also noticed Batman Street, and thought I might go there for Dinner Dinner Dinner Dinner….
Bill Bryson on dining alone:
I realized I did not want to dine alone in my own hotel. It is such a tame and lonely thing to do – an admission that one has no life. As it happened, I had no life, but that wasn’t quite the point. Do you know what is the most melancholy part of dining alone? It’s when they come and take away all the other place setting and wine glasses as if to say: ‘Obviously no one will be joining you tonight, so we’ll just whip away all these things and seat you here facing a pillar, and in a minute we’ll bring you a very large basket with just one roll in it. Enjoy!”
On the 23rd, I decided to visit the Memorial Shrine and Parliament. The usual tours of marble and expense, but an interesting fact about the statue of Queen Victoria which stands in the lobbies. Apparently, the reason that a large and very expensive statue is there at all is because she is standing with her left foot forward, which is apparently an act of war. Several statues were made like this, and old Vic disliked them so much she said “send ‘em all to the colonies”.
Reluctantly, I left Melbourne early on the morning of the 24th for the 12 hour journey to Sydney.
The XPT train between Melbourne and Sydney is quick and reasonably comfortable, and hot meals and teas are sold at intervals during the day, and I thought it was nice that they don’t use the “gotcha” scenario to rip you off…a nice Lasagne with roll and butter was 2 quid, and I also partook of morning tea, or Devonshire Tea as they call it, with a couple of warms scones and some jam.
All very civilized, especially considering the seats swivel, so as there was no-one in front of me, I swivelled them round, stretched my legs, watched the scenery, listened to my CD, and read all of Artemis Fowl.
Sydney
Sydney is Australia’s largest and most cosmopolitan city, the capital of New South Wales and the most heavily populated state in Australia. Sydney’s population is over 4 million. Kings Cross is the most densely populated area within Sydney (and Australia) according to the 1996 Census. More people live within 5 kms of the General Post Office than anywhere else in Australia (ie. 283,844 in June 1999).
One of Sydney’s most famous icons is the Sydney Harbour Bridge (1932), which took 10 years to build and links the city with the northern suburbs. The Bridge is 1,149 metres long in total, including the approach spans. 95,000 cubic metres of concrete, eight million rivets and 272,000 litres of paint were used. The Bridge is painted grey as it was the only colour available at the time. The sandstone pylons are there to make the Bridge look safe, without performing any structural function.
The 305 metre high AMP Tower at Centrepoint is Sydney’s tallest building. The Tower is stabilised by 56 cables which, if laid end to end, would reach from Sydney to New Zealand. It takes approximately 40 seconds to travel by lift/elevator from the top to the bottom of the Tower.I arrived in Sydney at 8pm, 13 hours after leaving Melbourne. The YHA is situated right opposite the station, and is apparently the largest in the world with 550 beds, and still it manages to be 90% full in Winter, even with charging $30 per bed. But it is good, clean, secure, and has a pool, sauna, cinema at, and all rooms are air conditioned, which is pretty vital in the summer, In fact, from Sydney north, even the cheapest backpackers seemed to have aircon as standard. Not that I’d need it; the temp in Sydney was about 17 degrees.
I got off to an early start in the morning, and made straight for the Opera House, and as I approached the harbour I was just stunned. It truly was the most beautiful harbour in the world. The sun was so bright that it made the already vivid colours even brighter. I walked across a footbridge which also carries the monorail, and looked back at the gleaming city, the glistening water and the flags across the bridge. In subsequent conversations with well travelled backpackers, I have yet to meet one single person who would disagree that Sydney in the most beautiful city in the world.
On my way into the Opera House, I chanced upon the See Sydney card. This is an excellent invention: $50 for one day or $79 for two allows access to most of the cities attractions, notably with the exception of the Skytower, but it does include a $40 jetboat ride around the harbour which was fun. I managed to visit $180 worth of attractions for my $79, so it’s definitely a good investment. The first thing I used it for was a tour of the Opera House. Anyone with any interest in architecture or Australia will know that the building of the Opera House was fraught with political wrangling, and there is even talk of closing it for a year to sort out the minor glitches. The Opera House, has over one million tiles on its roof and is one of the busiest performing arts centres in the world, with 2,300 performances annually. There are five main performance venues, namely the Concert Hall, Opera Theatre, The Studio, Playhouse and Drama Theatre, plus external areas such as the Forecourt and the Monumental Steps which are also used for performances. The first performance at the Sydney Opera House was the Australian Opera’s production of Prokofiev’s War and Peace on 28 September 1973.
The grand organ in the Sydney Opera House is recognised as the world’s largest mechanical action organ; it has 10,000 pipes grouped in 200 ranks, and is positioned 10 metres above the floor of the Concert Hall. It has five manual keyboards and 61 keys.
The performance for the next 4 nights was “The Music of the Spheres – Taiko Drums and Holst’s Planets”, and due to an amazing bit of chance, and the fact that I had just been on a tour, I managed to get the last seat to that evening’s performance. $25 got me a discounted seat in the front row – visibility was crap, but when the orchestra struck up, I had no complaints.
I left the Opera House at 10:30pm, and the evening air was not too cold. I started to walk back towards the Circular Quay to savour the Saturday evening atmosphere, when I heard a loud thud, and there followed a spectacular firework display somewhere towards Mrs Macquiries Chair. As I watched the explosions over the Opera House reflecting in the water beneath, I turned to a woman and asked “What are the fireworks for?”
“Because it’s Sydney”, she replied.
I liked this place.
Bill Bryson on Sydney
Life cannot offer many places finer to stand at eight thirty on a summery weekday morning than Circular Quay in Sydney. To begin with, it presents one of the world’s great views. To the right, almost painfully brilliant in the sunshine, stands the famous Opera House with it’s jaunty, severely angular roof. To the left, the stupendous and noble Harbour Bridge. Across the water, shiny and beckoning, is Luna Park, a Coney Island-style amusement park with a maniacally grinning head for an entrance. Before you the spangly water is crowded with the harbour’s plump and old-fashioned ferries, looking for all the world as if they had been plucked from the pages of a 1940’s children’s book with a title like Thomas the Tugboat, disgorging streams of tanned and lightly dressed office workers to fill the glass and concrete towers that loom behind.
An air of cheerful industriousness suffuses the scene. These are people who get to live in a safe and fair-minded society, in a climate that makes you strong and handsome, and they get to come to work on a boat from a children’s story book, across a sublime plane of water, and each morning glance up from their Heralds and Telegraphs to see that famous Opera House and inspiring bridge and the laughing face of Lune Park. No wonder they look so damned happy.
I rose early on the morning of the 27th, to ensure early arrival at Wonderland, a theme park, free on the See Sydney card. All I can say is that I am glad it was free. I came back by way of the Paramatta river. A word about the transport system. Sydneysiders have at their disposal a tram system, a monorail, a fast and regular double-decker train service (which doubles-up as an underground in the city), the buses and of course, the state ferry service. All this can be yours for $12/day. Take the train to Paramatta, and then cruise back on the Paramatta river cat, a thoroughly relaxing and peaceful 2 hour round trip, with excellent views of the harbour as you approach. All part of the state transport service…beats the 07:15 from Slough anyday!
I then proceeded to go on a “Harbour Highlights” cruise, and then took a boat to Taronga Zoo on the north shore. The zoo is a very labyrinthine affair, but most excellently populated, and surely the best views of any zoo in the world!
Finally, it was back over the water, and off to Darling Harbour for the Maritime Museum and then the Sydney Aquarium, which was, as was becoming a habit in Sydney, one of the best in the world.
As my card had now expired, the next two days were at a more leisurely pace, exploring the suburbs, and photographing the sunsets from Mrs Macquiries Chair. Nothing beats the sun setting behind the Opera House with the harbour bridge (or “coathanger” as it is colloquially known) in the background. I was also most pleased when I stumbled across the world-famous “cafe-de-wheels”.
To Byron Bay
On the morning of the 30th, I caught the 7:15am train from Sydney, heading toward Byron Bay. Arrival would be some 11 hours later, but the journey was enlivened by two mildly drunk gentlemen engaged in drunkard arguments, and later on, the addition of Mr Sniffy, a man whos constant sniffing was so annoying, most of the carriage was compelled to temporarily move until his disembarkation, although decongestion would probably have been preferable.
My initial intention had been just to overnight in Byron to break the long train journey, but I instantly liked the place, and book four nights instead. One rather nice touch was that we were starting to get a little warmer now, and winter in Byron comes in at about 22 degrees.
I immediately noticed a strong hippy culture to the place…endless stores selling tofu kaftans and classes in yogurt yoga were evident. If it’s real hippy you want, apparently the nearby Nimbin is where it’s at, man, and recognisable by the constant pollution bubble of spliff smoke emanating from the town.
I was a little worried about crime in the place with Queensland’s lowest employment rate, however it appears that most of the crime if minor pilfering, as everyone is too stoned to contemplate anything else. In fact, I would guess that the only hazard might be all the peroxide in the water from all the hair bleaching.
The next morning, I rose at 5:45am to take pictures from Australia’s most westerly point, and I was not disappointed. The sun suddenly broke the horizon, and proceeded to swiftly become a glowing ball of orange, rising quickly through a thin line of cloud.
I was a little annoyed to glance at the morning paper later in the morning, to find that, about 4 hours after I left Sydney,whales appeared in the harbour, breaching and frolicking, and captivating an entire city for two days. If only I had stayed a day longer…but then I could spend a lifetime saying “if only”, so I didn’t let it worry me too much.
I spent the next few days just relaxing and enjoying the laid back atmosphere. I went surfing one day. If I was a good surfer, in surfer parlance I would be able to hang ten and ride the big kahuna in the waves there…as it happens, it was more a case of hanging 5 and a half and riding a small-to-medium sized kahuna.But I was most pleased to have stood up for 5 waves, 3 of them all the way to the shore. I suddenly felt the urge to bleach my hair, drop 100 points off my IQ and become unemployed….
Something else I noticed is that this is where VW camper vans go, not to die, but to gain a new lease of life, a surfboard, a bed, and a startling new coat of paint. This must surely be the air-cooled enthusiasts heaven.
I met a French girl back at the hostel, and despite my general practice of trying to avoid French people, we ended up going for a sunset walk along the beach, and watched a giant pelican flying into the warm orange sky. Dinner followed, and finally a return to the beach for a snog under the crystal clear sky, punctuated by the occasional shooting star. Not that we had the beach to ourselves…by 11pm, it was inhabited by piss-heads going skinny-dipping, because as we all know, alcohol, water and riptides at night make the perfect combination.
I took advantage of the hostel’s free bike hire ons day, and pedaled my way around the sights. I suddenly realised that I was in a place I could feel safe cycling again, after giving cycling in New Zealand a wide berth. A quick word on cycling in the Shaky Isles (ie: NZ)…make sure you have a good life insurance policy!
Traffic law seems to go like this in NZ: a red traffic light is a very rough guide as to where it might be an idea to stop; however, at a pedestrian crossing, red lights may be ignored as hitting a pedestrian is unlikely to do too much damage to the car. When overtaking cyclists, ensure that there is roughly the width of a coat of paint between you and the bike. Speed signs should be read inversely…when travelling on the open road in 100Kph zones, go a little too slowly, and make it hard to overtake. Whereas in populated city areas, dangerously fast and inconsiderate driving is expected, unless you are a bus driver, in which case rudeness and disregard for passengers, pedestrians and other road users is a vital part of the job as well as the two former traits. Oh, and following too closely…I have been in buses doing 70Kph through a town centre, with less than a foot between the vehicle in front. Indeed, as I type, I am reading about an 18 car pile-up in NZ, in which miraculously no-one was hurt, but they were all following so close that a witness described the chain of impacts as “sounding like a machine gun going off”. Anyhow, enough of that…I was in Australia,a place where I felt safe cycling, and I made the most of it.
In the evening, my Oriental room-mate Wayne and myself headed out to one of the backpackers bars, “Cheeky Monkey’s”, for a night titled “Miss Backpacker 2002″, at which everyone seemed to be either British or Scottish, and everyone looked about 12 and drunk. I had already noticed that Wayne appeared to be a hit with the chicks, and I thought that I could perhaps poach some of the limelight by hanging in the aura of Wayniness, and it seemed to work. He’s a clever guy: he doesn’t drink, at all, hence his brain is not fried (we had an interesting conversation about quantum physics), and saves a fortune in alcohol. And, of course, sometime after 11pm, he can just start hoovering up the girls that the piss-heads are too drunk to pull. Around midnight, I left him to do what he does best (he rolled in at 4am with a big grin) while I headed back to my room with a mild dose of tinnitus (I’m too old for this lark, I tells ya!).
Brisbane
On the evening of the 3rd I caught the train for the 4 hour trip to Brisbane. The journey passed without incident, but arrival at Brisbane could not have been worse, for the Brisbane Transit Centre is about 5 levels of coach and train interchange hell. I staggered the kilometre or so to the YHA, and slept well.
The amazing park and botanical gardens excluded, I found Brisbane to be an unexceptional place, despite taking an unexpected tour of the outskirts on a restored train and walking all round the city. I mean, it’s pleasant, the sun shines, and buildings are interesting and clean, but I wouldn’t want to live there. I guess I must have missed something, because I appeared to be entirely alone in this view.
I departed on the morning of the 5th, on the Tilt Train to Rockhampton, although I was only going as far as Hervey Bay. The Tilt Train is so called…well, do I need to explain that it tilts on the corners? Inside, it looks very much like an aircraft cabin; hostesses welcome you on board, and point your seat out. Luggage goes in the overhead lockers, and the armrest carries a small console with 9 audio channels plus one for the overhead video screens. Sadly, the similarity extends as far as legroom, but it was swift and quiet. When not showing such gems as ET on screens not quite bright enough to see over the glare from the sun, it was showing speed, distance and GPS location information, showing that we were cruising at about 175Kph most of the time. Later in the afternoon, the view switched to a forward-facing camera which must have been located at the front, which made for compelling viewing, as no-dared avert their gaze in case they missed the moment when a kangaroo may attempt to take on the train. It didn’t happen, but it’s amazing how mesmerizing watching two dead straight shiny steel lines joining together on the parallel horizon can be. I sampled the entertainment, and stayed with the comedy channel for a while, and discovered the joys of “The Scared Little Weird Guys” doing their bit for the tourism industry with a song titled “Come to Australia, where you might accidentally get killed!”, and “I’ve been everywhere, man”, while the landscape had started to become a little Californian….endless vineyards, punctuated by the occasional utility town, complete with mega-mall.
Hervey Bay and Fraser Island
The afternoon brought arrival into Hervey Bay, and coach transfer to the YHA Hervey Bay Colonial Backpackers, which, although pleasant in itself, is really just a staging post for 1 and 3 day trips over to Fraser Island. I booked a 1 day trip, and spent the evening amusing myself in a conversation with the resident talking cockatoo, who’s vocabulary had been broadened in interesting ways by the never ending stream of backpackers.
The 6th meant an early rise for the day trip to Fraser Island, the world’s largest sand island. The trip was by 4wd coach…something a bit like a massive 38-person bus sized Land Rover, which bounced along across the sand roads. The driver was very amusing and knowledgable, keeping an informative commentary going in spite of the challenging driving conditions. Dry sand, steep hills and the pneumatic tyre don’t appear to keep very good company, and several times we had to back up and take another run at some of the hills, and the driver gave us a mini “driving on sand” lesson…if you take it in too high a gear, you stall. If you take it in too low a gear, you don’t have the momentum to keep going. If you even think about de-clutching to change gear, you stop dead and have to back up anyway. The problem had apparently been resolved as all the rest of the buses were turbocharged automatic vehicles, making an easier if less skillful driving experience.
We then came out to the beach…now, imagine a beach with golden sand, 75k long, and as wide as an 8-lane motorway. Now, call it a highway, give it an 80kph speed limit, and let vehicles loose, and you have an interesting and somewhat un-nerving driving experience. As we caned it along the “road” as quick as we could, we were overtaken at some speed by the other bus. “He thinks he’s so smart and fast in his new turbocharged bus….everyone start whistling…we’ll soon catch him up!”
Various stops were made along the way for rainforest walks, or just spots of incredible natural beauty. Yes, rainforest. You see, although it is a sand island, over thousands of years, the nutrients and dust in the rain built up a layer in the sand thick enough to support small plants, which then decayed and provided nutrients for bigger plants. And so it went on. Now a rich and lush vegetation covers the island. We saw staghorn and elkhorn epiphytes (symbiotic plants that live in the trees) as well as ferns which grow a couple of millimetres a year. One fern we saw was over 1,500 years old, one of 6 on the island around that age.
We stopped for a pleasant lunch, during which an incredibly fat and loud Canadian couple returned to the buffet counter at least 11 times, and finished the tour with a trip to centre lake in the middle of the island. The sands in and around the lake are pure silica sand, and as such are perfect for polishing jewelery, and asides from a swim in the therapeutic waters of the lake, the tourists were delighted to find that the sands did indeed leave their jewelery sparkling.
The next morning (the 7th) I again did what was starting to become a habit, and awoke at 5:45am to see another spectacular sunrise. I took a walk through the mangrove swamp as it was low-tide, and saw all the pelicans and other birdlife that lives therein, before heading back to Hervey Bay to get the tilt train on to Rockhampton.
I occupied myself during the train journey by reading Fermat’s Last Theorem, which had been left in an earlier hostel. Something I endeavor to do is read a lot while travelling, especially the national newspapers. At least that way you get a feel for the mood and issues of the country at the time. One of the current long-standing issues is the Woomera detention centre. Of course, the Howard government have got it absolutely correct and the message appears to be getting through to would-be destination shoppers and financial migr…ooops, I do, of course, mean those poor refugees fleeing whatever it is they have learnt is current flavour of the month. “Oh, but look how much space there is in Australia”, crow the uneducated. And of course, so of them even take direct action. Just before I arrived in Australia, two boys had been snatched from the centre in a violent confrontation, and then in an appalling display of inhumanity, had been given false hope and pawned around the consulates. You may have read about how the British consulate was approached with these two boys, and how awful and uncaring they were not to accept them. I mean, what the hell has the British Consulate got to do with it?? These nasty, self-serving zealots had used these boys for their own ends, and to the ultimate detriment of other, perhaps genuine, refugees.
So anyway, I’d read that days papers, and was devouring Fermat’s last theorem, and book about 500 pages long on whether Xn+Yn=Zn or not. Fascinating. Some interesting historical mathematically-related facts, too. For example, Islam is responsible for the destruction and setting back of vast amounts learning, including the destruction of the worlds greatest museum, the Alexandra Museum, in 642. In addition, on the orders of Caliph Omar, scholarly books both contradicting AND in agreement with the Koran were destroyed. Now we have the destruction of the worlds largest and oldest sandstone Buddhas last year. Good to see that such a forward-thinking and progressive religion is also the fastest growing religion in the world.
On a lighter note, at this point I reached the following point (p127) in Down Under:
‘…I ordered another beer and drew a little cartoon. It showed two spawning salmon, halfway up a series of lively cascades, resting exhausted in a pool of calm water, when one turns to the other and says:
“Why don’t we just stop here and have a wank?”.
This amused me very much and I put it into my pocket against the day I learn to draw objects that people can actually recognise.’
Rockhampton and Great Keppel Island
Somewhere during the journey, we passed into the Tropic of Capricorn, and the climate was certainly subtropical. I arrived in Rockhampton, and checked into the YHA, had a massive pizza, drink and garlic bread from the local Dominoes for the princely sum of $10 (go on, divide by three….it wouldn’t even buy you the drink in the UK!) and booked a day trip to Great Kepell Island the next day. Within minutes of arriving on the island, I thoroughly regretted not having much time to stay longer, but from here north, the trains only run every three days. So I made the most of it, and spent an entire day walking, pausing only to explore the reef at one of the many secluded but postcard-perfect bays. Rental of a snorkel, flippers and goggles was $15, but I had a pair of swimming goggles with me, I didn’t need flippers to swim, and I can hold my breathe for over a minute at a time while swimming. So, I put the goggles on, and swam out to the reef. However many reefs I snorkel over, I am always stunned by the colours and variety of life within. The key thing to staying alive is not to touch anything, and I was not even too worried when I floated over a large but currently peaceful sea-snake. I floated there for a while watching the rays drift past, and then Mr Seasnake decided to surface. At this point I did not know the full story of the seasnake, but believe me I was sculling
backwards, trying not to create too much splash. He then popped his head above the water, at which point I turned round and swam the 100 metres to the shore in about 4 seconds. I figured that anything that lives in the water can move quicker than me. When I reached the beach, I asked someone who looked a bit more professional about the seasnake. Apparently, it’s the world’s second most venomous snake, but in mitigation, it’s fangs are set well back meaning leg-chomping is unlikely, and providing you don’t go prodding it, it is unlikely to trouble you.
I returned to the mainland and caught the 20:40 overnight Sunlander train. I had a poor night’s sleep, but was rewarded with another sunrise. Somewhere along the journey, the crops had changed to mainly banana and sugarcane. Arriving in Townsville at 08:40, it was nice to exit the train into a nice warm start to the day. I walked a painfully long distance with my ever-heavier backpack to the catamaran over to Magnetic Island, so called because it made Captain Cook’s compass go “all funny” as he sailed past.
Magnetic Island
The YHA collected us from the jetty, and took us to the hostel over the other side of the island. I then found that my room was actually a small garden shed, albeit one with an airconditioning unit bolted to the side of it, in which somehow 4 beds had been shoe-horned. Not enough room to swing one of the many possums which lurked nearby, especially a very tame on which seems to have taken up residence in the rafters above the kitchen. As luck would have it, the first night’s company was to be two Italian girls, and then said “I was nicest person they had talked to”, which was nice. It’s a real shame that this is one of the grimmest hostels, and yet it is in one of the most beautiful locations. I tried to book a “swim with the horses” next day, which looked interesting. After going through the traditional rigmarole of trying too get it through to the booking agent that this really WAS what you wanted to do, and not something which was “better value” (ie: ridiculously more expensive, and therefore more commission for the booking agent at the hostel).
Next morning was an early start, and we saddled up. First disappointment was that we were only going to be allowed to ride at walking pace, no canters or gallops along the beach, as it was windy (as it rarely was) and apparently “the horses get spooked by it”. But we got to the sea, got the saddles of, got back on bareback, and walked them into the sea. First trick was to try and stand up on the back of the horses, which I was the only person to manage. We then got off, and swam the horses into the water, the idea being that when the horses start swimming, you grab a clump of mane, and off you go! It took a while, but after a quiet word in the horses ear, we were off. All in all, a good experience.
I stayed on Magnetic island two more days, and annoyingly I had my breakfast cereal and a t-shirt stolen while I was there. Allow me a small rant about a small but annoying minority of backpackers in general. You would have thought that travelling the world would make you aware of the world and people around you, that you have to respect your fellow travellers and their rights to certain standards of behaviour. In many hostels you will see signs that say “If you have no money and cannot afford food, do not steal others…we are all on a budget.” It shouldn’t even need to be said, but sadly it happens, and it’s damned annoying! The same goes for general basic standards of hygiene. Perhaps if you are camping for several days with no-where to wash, then you have an excuse for not being daisy-fresh. However, all hostels have free, hot, good showers and cheap washing and drying facilities. And yet, I actually had to ask someone if, out of respect for everyone else in the room, if not himself, he wouldn’t mind having a shower and deoderising his shoes. It was an awkward moment, but his selfishness was making 6 peoples stay a little unpleasant. And finally, kitchens. Here’s the deal: in hostels, you get a kitchen, lots of space and stoves to cook on, pots and pans to cook in, and plates and cutlery. It gets cleaned 3 times a day, when someone comes and cleans the floor, the surfaces and empties the bins. The deal is that you clean up after yourself, wash and dry things and then put them away. And yet some people seem to think that a maid will come and clear up after them. The Chinese are the worst for this…they just splatter Chinese food cooking everywhere, and then just leave someone else to clear up. As it says in one of the hostel kitchens “Your mother doesn’t live here!”. Someone these people manage to get themselves over to the other side of the world, but lack the most basic self-sufficiency skills.
And they should count themselves lucky. Not so long ago, hostels even had “chores” where you had to do a share of cleaning as well.
Enough ranting, that’s the last one from me.
I left Magnetic Island having done the Forts Walk, and having seen some real Koalas, some amazingly rugged and colourful coastline and met some very interesting people. That night was spent at the Townsville Transit Centre YHA, which was very new and very smart, almost clinically clean, but one feature let it down badly…I kept expecting to see Snow White at every turn; you see, this was a hostel for dwarfs. The beds were ridiculously small, and the heads of the showers were located approximately at chest height, meaning I had to almost kneel down to have a shower. Bad design letting down a good place.
Cairns, the rainforest and Cape Tribulation
Next stop was Cairns, and another 12 hour train journey to get there. Read more Fermat and also had a go at reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Bought a paper and read all about the flooding in the “resort of Scarborough, England”. Now, excuse me, but I don’t think I have ever seen two words which sit more uncomfortably together than “resort” and “Scarborough”. Unless, of course, we are talking about the last resort. Also read some Australian gambling statistics: Each Australian lost $988 in gambling last year, a total loss of $14.7 billion dollars, and additionally that 1 in 5 gaming machines in the world are in Australia. I can’t help thinking that that money could have been better spent.
Outside, the sugarcane and banana plantations continued, but we were most definitely in the tropics which steaming hillsides of lush rainforest.
Towards the end of the journey, The Worlds Most Annoying Man made himself know. His name is Marcus Price (or Bryce). He live in Cairns and works as a boilermaker, but he’s looking for work at the moment. He is also on the train. I, and the entire carriage know about this because he insisted on carrying on a never-ending stream of conversations on his mobile, incredibly loudly. After one particularly long conversation had ended, the carriage burst into spontaneous applause. He seemed totally oblivious to this and just carried on. Time for a bit of mischief…after a quick bit of planning, the passenger opposite me and myself held a very loud conversation across the aisle.
“Hello mate, how are you?”, I shouted.
“I’m fine. Why are you shouting?” he shouted back.
“Because I’m under the illusion that everyone else on the train wants to here it!”
“Oh, so you’re on the train?”
“YEAH! I’M ON THE TRAIN!”
A couple more exchanges had the other passengers in stitches, and strangely, Mr Shouty stopped!
And here’s the funny part…during one of his conversations, he said that his privacy is important to him!!! And finally, he said on one of his conversations, “You know what they say…a friend in need is a pain in the ass”. Surely no more so than a twat with a mobile on the train, eh?
I had four days in Sunny Cairns, and it really is a good time of year to be there. At around Fraser Island, there stops being seasons, and you have either the wet or the dry. It was 26 degrees in “winter” in Cairns, and it is pleasant most of the year round, although December and January are not so pleasant, with heavy rainfall, temperatures in the 40’s, and high humidity. Everything goes moldy, even people.
The day of the 13th brought the first disappointment of the trip, with a total ripoff trip to Cape Tribulation. A total waste of a day, and I spent most of the day thinking of all the better ways I could have spent $93. Even the lunch was nasty, so greasy most people couldn’t eat it. Yes, there were lots of stops to see things, but I was left feeling that $93 was not well spent. Although we did visit a beach up at Cape Tribulation. This is stinger territory, and a big sign by the beach warns of no swimming at a certain time of the year. Above the sign is a big bottle of vinegar, with which to douse any jellyfish wounds. Now, let’s just consider the humble Box Jellyfish for a moment. Allow me to quote from p84 of Down Under:
“In 1992, a young man in Cairns, ignoring all the warning signs, went swimming in the Pacific waters at a place called Holloways Beach. He swam and dived, taunting his friends on the beach for their prudent cowardice, and then began to scream with an inhuman sound. The young man staggered from the water, covered in livid whip-like stripes wherever the jellyfishes tentacles had brushed across him, and collapsed in quivering shock. Soon afterwards, emergency crews arrived, inflated him with morphine, and took him away for treatment. And here’s the thing. Even unconscious and sedated he was still screaming.”
Never ignore the signs!
The next day was my last in Cairns, and I’ll be damned if I was going to leave Oz on a sour note, so, at the last second, I boarded the Skyrail Train with one minute and one seat to spare and began the ascent up the hills aboves Cairns. The train ride provides good views in itself, but it is only a means to an end, that being Kuranda, a village at the top right in the rainforest. Kuranda has an “alternative” lifestyle that goes back to the 60’s, and is mainly just one huge collection of markets for the sale of various carved and painted things. In one of the sidestreets, I discovered “batreach”, and excellent and worthy home for injured bats, entirely supported by donations. The bats are very intelligent, and the woman who runs the place not only knows them all by name, but they come to her when she calls them! You could easily spend four hours at Kuranda, and I spent a good half hour in the Peter Jarver photo gallery, which displayed without doubt some of the most amazing photos I have ever seen. Sadly, I was about $1000 short of being able to purchase even the smallest framed print, so I moved on to the second part of the Skyrail ride…the Skyrail itself. This is the worlds longest gondola ride, right over the tops of the rainforest. You can stop at 2 points along the way and get out and explore the rainforest, and also learn more about it at the information point. At one of the stations, a guide will take you on a free tour of the forest. The cool,warm, soft, clean air and experience of walking through a rainforest is something no-one should miss, as for riding about the canopy…well, if you only have the time or money to do one thing in Cairns, this is it. It is uniquely beautiful, in fact, the service calls itself “the most beautiful rainforest experience in the world”, a claim it can easily justify.
The next day was the 15th, my last in Australia. I was wondering why I hadn’t met anyone I knew yet. It had to happen sooner or later. Everyone else seemed to have bumped into someone from school, or a neighbour. I met a girl on one of the daytrips who is assistant houseparent of the house of a boarding school in Letchworth I used to go to,which was close, but as yet, no cigar.
Then as I was boarding the plane at Cairns, I saw someone very familiar looking, but having embarrassed myself before with “are you….?” type questions, I let it lie. He was sitting down, and apart from the strikingly similar facial features, I had no height or anything to go on.
Then when we landed in Brisbane to connect flights, I was getting off the plane when I saw him again….the height was right, and I overheard him talking … it was him alright. A guy I worked with for a year in Winchester. I went and tapped him on the shoulder; ” Hello Sean, how’s work?!!”. He had one of those minor heart attack double-take moments, we said hi, but sadly we both had very tight connections for our next, seperate flights, so we agreed to email. Small old world, eh?
And so, after another 3 hour flight to NZ, I was back. But I had already decided within a day of arriving in Melbourne that I would forever keep a lookout for a cheap flight to Oz. This is clearly a place that requires a lot of exploring.
Not wishing to upset any north-island kiwis here, but I spent 6 months in the north island, which is very beautiful, and 3 weeks in Australia, and Aussie wins the vote as far as general scenery goes. So I was thinking that the south island of NZ was going to have to work pretty darn hard to catch up again.
Let’s put it this way…I think the view out of the window of the backpackers on the first morning made a pretty good start :) But that’s another story entirely…..
