Hello Everybody.
Once again it is time for another installment of my adventures. It has been a while since the last and so there is lots to read about, so you had better get comfortable.
Before waving goodbye to Esperance I went on a 3hr boat trip round some of the Rocherche Archipelago, it was a lovely day for it and a great little trip. I saw all manner of sea based wild life, most notable of which are the Australian sea lions and the New Zealand fur seals, and the baby ones are even cuter in real life than they are on the telly. Once back on dry land I made a dash back to the hostel for my backpack and then off to the bus station to embark on the 25hr trip from Esperance to Port Augusta. The first stage of the journey was to Norseman, where I changed busses managing to get bitten to bits by mosquitoes whilst waiting for the 2nd bus to arrive. The journey across the Nullabor Plane isn't renound for its impressive scenery, with the emphasis quite firmly on the 'plain' but as I was traveling across it almost entirely during the night it wouldn't have mattered how stunning it was. Anyway the only eventfull thing that occurred was the boarder crossing from W.A. to S.A. Now the very fact that there are boarders at all is a bit odd, after all it is all the same country. So is it to help prevent drugs or guns or something spreading around the country I hear you wonder? NO, the idea behind it is to prevent the most evil things of all crossing from state to state, and we all know what they are don't we? Yes that's right, fruit and veg! They even have sniffer dogs.
So I arrive (fruitless and alone) in the rather shabby Port Augusta, who's economy is sustained almost entirely from passing trade as it is a transport bottle-neck. Needless to say I got lost on my way to the hostel, although to be fair I do believe the map I had was printed back to front. The hostel I was staying at was rather odd, it was the first non-YHA hostel I had stayed in and was owned by this strange guy. By the look of him he'd had too much sun, his dark tan and deeply wrinkled face in stark contrast to his gleaming white grin and pale staring eyes. The whole place was like a 60's cliché, with the walls covered in paintings done by previous backpackers (with varying degrees of talent). It was a bit of an experience and was also very cheap.
Cheapness had become rather important as the next stop on my travels promised to be rather expensive. The time had come to leave the coast and head in to the "Red Center" to see Ayers Rock. I decided to head straight for Alice Springs and get a tour from there. Alice Springs is a 14hr bus journey north of Port Augusta (once again in the dark) and despite being in the Red Center (which IS red by the way) it is surprisingly green. The redness of the sand/soil and indeed Ayers Rock (or Uluru as it is traditionally known) is due to iron in the soil being brought to the surface by capillary action as rain water dries and so everything is only red on the surface. The unexpected greenery was apparently due to exceptionaly high rainfall last year causing the normally barren desert plains to be conspicuously lush and covered in a thick covering of spinifex grass.
Alice is not exactly a holiday resort and only prospers with significant assistance from the tourism created by Ayers Rock. Of course that is why I was there and were it not for the Rock I would probably never have visited the Northern Territory at all. I wasted a day or two in the hostel, which despite having its own pool, bar, night club, restaurant and amusement arcade was both dull and decidedly shabby. So I was pleased when at last I could embark on my 2 day tour. A 4:30am start to catch the tour bus at 5:15 was somewhat frustrated due to delays meaning we sat in the bus for 45 minutes before setting off, but frustration melted away as we drove out of the town and saw the sun rising in glorious technicolour over the plains.
The first stop on our tour, after many hours of driving was Kings Canyon where we set off on a three hour "Trek" (i.e. stroll with hills). We walked through an area of eroded rock mounds called "The Lost City" and on to the edge of Kings Canyon, which is pretty spectacular. At the far end of the canyon is an almost permanent water hole in an area known as "The Garden of Eden" where we went down a series of steep wooden steps to the canyon floor and were invited to take a cooling dip. Then it was back along the other side of the canyon where we saw various fossils in the rock including fossilised water (well ripples left by water anyway). Back on the bus there was several more hours driving before arriving at our campsite near Ayers Rock, the journey being interrupted several times along the way by feral camels wandering across the road. At the camp site there was the choice of sleeping in a tent or in a 'Swag' under the stars. I opted for the latter and after a fabulous bar-b-q dinner we all retired early as there was another 5am start next day. Before effortlessly dropping off to sleep I took a moment to appreciate sleeping in the open air under the stars and full moon, with loads of spinifex hopping mice scurrying about around me. A memory that I am sure will endure. Next day it was time to at last see the Rock. The objective was to get there before sunrise so that those who wished to climb the rock would have time to do so before watching the desert for miles around change hue as the dawn broke. So after a relatively short drive we could see the huge monolith silhouetted against the clear night sky. I have to say it is a genuinely impressive sight, it certainly seems to generate an awe inspiring presence which no picture or film could ever capture. Shortly we arrived and our merry little group separated in to walkers and climbers. I was amongst those who were to do the 2hr walk around the base of the rock. This wasn't so much because of the Aboriginal preference that people don't climb it, rather it was because if you are standing on the rock you get a great view of everything except the one thing you came to see.
The initial part of this walk was of course in the dark and out in the desert it is pretty cold at night especially with the calm but biting wind. Now al I am sure you are aware the cold has never bothered me much, in fact I even rather like it, and this was certainly to my advantage on this occasion. You see the night before I had leant my jacket to a young English girl on out tour as she had become completely unprepared, (presumably believing that deserts are always warm) and was shivering half to death even when beside the camp fire. It seems she took rather a liking to said jacket and so I set off around the rock in nothing more than a T-shirt (and jeans). Anyhow the sun soon rose and everywhere was hot again. Before this however there was a great photo opportunity. As you will recall there was a full moon and as we set off it hovered just over the rock and was a perfect picture. I just hope it comes out well. Walking around Ayers Rock is not at all taxing (unlike climbing it) as it is completely flat and even from the ground the changing colours of light spreading across the desert could be clearly seen. Now something you may not know about the Rock (I certainly didn't) is that some of the areas of it are of extra special significance in Aboriginal culture and as such it is requested that these parts of the rock are not photographed or filmed. From a tourists point of view this is a real shame as there are usually the most interesting features. Also the signs marking the areas are (in true aussie style) rather ambiguous making it difficult at times to know what you can snap away at and what you can't. Well I did my best, but I was determined to get my moneys worth.
After getting back to the tour bus (for cake) our tour guide took us over to some "areas of interest" and explained what they were all about, various cave like hollows in the rock used for Aboriginal rituals, cave paintings and the like. All very educational and further education was to come as out next stop was the Aboriginal Culture Center. This is situated a few kilometers away from the rock and was designed and is run by Aboriginals. All very interesting. The final stage of the tour before going back to Alice was the Olgas; originally named after some Dutch Queen by a Dutch explorer. Many people say that the Olgas are the best part of the trip and beautiful though they are it would in my mind be hard to rival the majestic presence of Ayers Rock. So what are the Olgas? Well basically more red rocks sticking up out of the desert in a similar way that Ayers Rock does. They are a different shape and of a different composition allowing huge valleys to be carved through them and many curious hollows in the sides of these valleys look like they should be inhabited by strange mythical creatures. We walked the length of one such valley all the way to the waterfall that created it. I have to say that despite not quite topping Ayers Rock it was certainly worth the visit and I would have liked more time to explore. So that was my tour of the Red Center, and next it was back in the bus to Alice for an inclusive all you could eat pizza-fest.
I loitered about in Alice for a day or so more before setting off back down south to Adelaide. Along the way I had booked a day in Coober Pedy.
Coober Pedy exists because of opals and even though the boom days are over it still uses its fame to keep people coming. Now one of the other enticing factors that Coober has to ensnare the traveler is underground accommodation. In the early days of settlements in the area the miners built their homes in the sides of the hills right in to the rock. It was mainly due to the harsh conditions and lack of trees that they did this. The desert around Coober is very hot in the day very cold at night and very dusty at all times. There is an ever present danger (even in the present day) that water supplies will dry up and as such everyone is very carefull with the stuff, suffice to say there is no carwash in Coober Pedy. Also, as if as a testament to the fact the old woman who owned the small hostel I stayed at stank so badly I expect she had been saving water by not washing at all. Now I mentioned the alluring nay romantic notion of sleeping underground, and all the travel books and pamphlets advertising Coober stress this point quite hard. So when you arrive you expect to be sleeping in underground mine like rooms connected by sprawling tunnels carved out of rock. Well it is all a bit of a con. Although there is one hostel that nearly fits this description it wasn't the one I was staying at. My "underground" dorm was just a tiny room carved in to the hill fronted by conventional building. So technically I was sleeping under ground but to get back above ground you just walk out through the kitchen to the front door, no steps, nothing. On the up side though it was the quietest and darkest dorm I have stayed in yet. Anyway having got to Coober fairly late I got an early night so as to get up bright and early to explore for the day before bussing it out of there onward to Adelaide. So what does a dusty opal mining town have to offer a traveler other than sub-terrainian sleep? Well, as I mentioned before opals are pretty big there, in fact you have never seen so many opal shops in your life. Every single shop in Coober sells opals in some form or another (I think you could even get them in the hair dressers there!). Also many shops that specialise in opals have displays of huge impressive opals that you can wander around and look at, and of course there are underground museums about opals and Coober's history. Opals are an oddity in my opinion as the ones that look the best (to me) are the cheapest and the most expensive ones (white opals) I wouldn't have given them tuppence for. Anyway after being dazzled by the brightly coloured minerals I set off out of the town center to see some of the areas other attractions. So what are these? Well there are 2 things. The most bizarre of which are a great many curious sculptures created by the inhabitants which just sit in the desert or in front of shops in a fashion which suggests they have been dumped there. There are sculptures of bugs made out of cars, a starship that looks like it came out of Star Wars or Battlestar Galactica and numerous machines welded together from bits of other machines, and then just left there. It is like a kind of incidental art graveyard. The other attraction is dust. Yes you read it right, dust! Or more correctly the numerous piles of excavated rock and potch dumped on the desert surface, giving away the presence of the underground tunneling. They are so numerous that it creates the feeling of being in a strange pink alien landscape. Now the combination of junk/sculptures and dug up desert has been the setting for a couple of famous films including such Hollywood greats as "Mad Max III" and "Precilla Queen of the Desert". Anyhow 1 day in Coober Pedy really is enough and so that night I set off on the bus again but not before witnessing a rare spectacle. As I have already explained water is in short supply in the area, so I was very surprised whilst walking to the bus station to feel light rain on my face. The first drop of rain all year.
I am at this stage getting rather fed up of bus travel. It seems that each successive journey becomes the worst one yet, fortunately this trend didn't set in until after I crossed the Nullabor. Anyway after a pretty bad sleepless journey to Adelaide I got off the bus in to the cold early morning air. Now as I have traveled round I have, as you would expect, become more proficient and practiced at the art of traveling or perhaps the art of being a traveler. Up until this point I have on every occasion booked my accommodation in my destination town before setting off. However some of the keener (and often cheaper) hostels send people with mini-busses to bus stations to tout for business. So I approach the gaggle of people each holding a board detailing the benefits of their particular establishment and immediately they all start to persuade me to go along with them. Anyhow I settled for a hostel near the center of the city which offered $4 breakfasts and more importantly was the cheapest. It turned out to be a nice place and the breakfasts were indeed splendid, As soon as I had checked in I crashed out to recover from the bus journey in order to be revitalised before I embarked on the days explorations.
Adelaide is little more than a country town but a very grand country town. There is a great deal of impressive architecture and sculpture about the place some of which can be found in and around each of its 5 squares. Now these squares are more like miniature parks and none are actually square, but they are all very pleasant. One has a monument to an early surveyor/town planner, another has a small decorated block type statue containing a poem about pigeons and the central one has a particularly nice fountain and a tram station. Another thing I liked about these squares is that they are arranged in one of my favorite formations, and the formation of which I am speaking that some of you will have already guessed is of course the 'Quincunx'. I stayed in Adelaide for several days, it is a great place just to mill about, watching the street performers or exploring shady tree lined avenues of ornate colonial buildings. Something that Adelaide lacks however and something I needed quite badly is work. It is a shame that I had to leave the place so soon and without having visited kangaroo island to see the wildlife but my finances were such that I had to head quickly to Melbourne where I had been assured that there was much work to be found.
And so 1 more chronic bus journey later I stepped out in to the damp morning air, haggle with the gaggle and soon I am being mini-bussed across the city to yet another hostel.
At this stage in the text you are going to notice a change in perspective. The reason being that up to now I have done a lot of traveling and seen many interesting things of which these chronicles are but the edited highlights, however my time in Melbourne so far (and for some time to come) has been of a different nature. I have had to put on hold the exhilarating aspects of my trip and slow my break neck pace to a sluggish saunter. I have therefore elected to describe to you in more detail some of the aspects of my travels that there isn't normally time to include. I hope it will give you a better picture of my life on the road without taking the romance and adventure out of the traveling ideal.
I shall begin my descriptions with "The Hotel Spencer". The Hotel Spencer is where I live; for the time being at least, it is here that I have resided ever since arriving in Melbourne (which to date is about a month ago). First of all for those of you who are unfamiliar with OZ terminology, when I say Hotel please think not of a European hotel as in Australia a Hotel is traditionally the pub. In keeping with this the ground floor of the establishment is indeed a pub/restaurant which is owned and run by different people who own and run the 3 floors above which are the hostel. I am on the second floor above the pub in room 17 which is a 6 bed dorm. The room is small and made to seem smaller still when filled to capacity as there is hardly enough floor space for everybodys things. As with many hostels a certain level of dilapidation is tolerated throughout and this manifests itself in room 17 in the form of peeling paint, stained carpets and a dodgy door handle that makes it hard to get in and out of the room. Also when it rains hard (which is frequent in winter in Melbourne) water slowly drips from the ceiling on to the carpet a few inches from my bed. This is particularly odd as there is another whole floor above. So from room 17 we move to the kitchen. Hostel kitchens vary greatly in how well equipped they are and how well they are designed for communal use. The worst kitchen I ever experienced was in Alice Springs where to make 2 minute noodles and a cup of tea could take as long as three quarters of an hour. The Hotel Spencer kitchen is actually pretty good by comparison, it has the usual stove, sink and kettle and also has an oven (which is rare) a microwave, a toaster and sandwich toaster and very unusually a dish washer. There is also the standard huge glass doored fridge containing many plastic bags of half eaten food, milk of varying ages and boxes of cheap local wine. Now all this may sound pretty good, and to be fair it isn't bad but then there is the dilapidation factor to work in. The microwave turntable doesn't turn so it burns things, half the hobs don't work, the oven never gets all that hot (as my experiments with yorkshire pudding have proven) and there are only 2 pans with handles. I met one traveler who was convinced that there was a lucrative black market trade in sharp kitchen knives and pan handles as these are 2 things that are rarely found in a hostel kitchen. Personally I think it is goblins. Goblins incidentally also have a liking for milk and sugar which also routinely go missing. The other 2 communal areas are the TV room and shower rooms. The showers despite needing to be rebuilt are generally clean and there is always hot water. The TV room which has recently been half refurbished (they replaced the sofas and painted 2 walls purple leaving the rest of the room alone). It is a curious room, it can go from empty to overflowing seemingly at the touch of a button.
As I said earlier this description isn't intended to shatter illusions about the traveling lifestyle. It is all too easy when sat at the office or in a traffic jam or wherever to form a dreamy picture of yourself on a deserted golden tropical beach bordered by a gentle warm azure ocean. Well make no mistake I have lounged on more "picture postcard" beaches in the last 4 months than I knew existed. So what I describe here is meant to let you in on what goes on between beaches and I suppose you could say that the traveler swaps the luxury of living conditions for a luxury of locations and experiences.
And so onward to an aspect of travel that I have until now given insufficient attention. This aspect is the people you meet. It reminds me of part of the theme song to the old TV program 'The littlest hoboe' where it says "With every step I take I make a new friend". It is a continuous process of meeting and getting to know new people, sometimes for only a few minutes, sometimes for weeks at a time. One of the advantages of traveling is that you always have something to talk about (as the length of this e-mail should demonstrate) and I have found that it doesn't matter whether someone has been traveling for just a couple of days or has made a career of it, they all have stories to tell. Naturally some are more gripping than others, generally those involving danger and misfortune being the best but even then half the story is in the telling. Another good thing about both the stories and the people themselves is that they give you more ideas of where to go next. It may be a beach or museum you have missed or a whole other continent that you have never even considered visiting. Before coming to OZ I was naturally unsure of how I would fare in the big wide world, whether I would make the distance and here I sit only 1/3 through my travels and already I am trying to decide which country to visit next.
And so with that though I will leave you once more. I shall save my experiences of Melbourne itself and working here until my next installment, by which time I hope I will be financially refueled and ready to hit the road again.
David