david taus

Poke-a-Dingo

Bad weather is following me I think. I try to stay a step or two ahead of the rain but it seems to catch up to me by the second night I stay in any given place on the coast. Today I got dropped off in Airlie Beach after a painful 13 hours on the greyhound bus from Hervey Bay. Sleeping in an airplane, which never really happens for me, is easy compared to those buses. My back is still hurting from the contortionist act needed to bend myself into those seats comfortably enough to shut my eyes for a couple minutes at a time. One halfway good thing to come of it is that I’ve discovered two very, very good reasons for anyone to come to Australia at those miserable roadhouses (known to us as truck stops): Australian bacon and Bunderberg Ginger Beer. Both are not to be missed. Consuming them at 4:30 AM in the middle of Gin Gin or Matilda or Barramundi with tattooed truckers is optional.

In my quest to end myself of the bus I’ve decided to get on another one at 2:30 this morning which should take me to Cairns, northern terminus of the bus line and jumping-off point for adventures in the Daintree National Park, the Great Barrier Reef, and Points North. But not yet. I’m in Airlie Beach, jumping off point for some of the most incredible sailing in the world-around cays and islands termed the Whitsundays. But it’s raining and I’m now under a bit of a time crunch and I’m not going sailing this time around.

let me back up for a minute:

Fraser Island. UNESCO World Heritage site and deservedly so. I signed on for a self-tour of the place. They give you and nine other people a bunch of camping gear, a 4×4 jeep, and three days to run yourselves all around the biggest sand island in the world, which also happens to have lakes more clear than Crater Lake in Oregon and Karri trees almost akin in height to the Redwoods of California. Plus a 75 mile stretch of beach on the Pacific Ocean, home to a migrating pod of humpback whales and breeding ground for tiger sharks. The biggest hurdle to all this, though, would be convincing 9 other strangers that it all was worth checking out.

Upon meeting the group I was set at ease. We ten were myself, two swedes studying in Melbourne (and skipping their first day of class to come to Fraser), two British girls taking a break from med school, an Irish couple, a motocross master from Germany, and another couple studying in Sydney-she from Germany, he from Botswana. I was the oldest by about 3 years. After our briefing about how to make sure to leave no trace and not get our 4×4s stuck, we were given maps, packing lists, and shopping lists and told to do some planning and packing. Virtual autopilot. THe difference this time was the gear: we were hauling around an enormous cast-iron grill along with an even heavier double-burner full sized stove with 2 gallon propane tank. Our tents were of the Wal-Mart backyard picnic variety. We were encouraged to purchase vast quantities of meat from a butcher. For a camping trip?

But things work different when you are tied to a vehicle. You can, storage space allowing, get away with carrying all this heavy stuff. So we bought obscene amounts of meat and used these tents which almost blew apart in the pacific winds and managed to have a great time of it. I, of course, spent a lot of time at camp re-staking tents and nudging people into action (this meat isn’t going to cook itself…) and found that as the trip wrapped up people were pretty much on autopilot. Necessity breeds productivity, I suppose. My style of camping comes from a very structured place; it has to be when 13 year olds are involved. But a group of people in their early 20’s can get away with a little chaos and still get it all done. I had to let myself allow it. Which was really hard.

As for the island itself: positive. I would have liked to spend much less time in the 4×4 and much more time walking through the less-explored corners of the place but the group was content to zip around to the more advertised spots, snap a photo or two, and pack themselves back into the 4×4 for more bumpy rides up the beach. I was the last one back to the truck every single time. As a result I missed some sweet hikes, one through the Pile Valley called “Valley of the Giants” which would have been pretty amazing, but there was more than me to consider. After travelling solo it was hard to adapt to the compromise game, especially with people I was thrown together with by chance, but it turned out well. It was above all fun to travel with people for a little bit. We chased after and shouted at dingoes to keep them away from our vast stores of meat and I learned about the ancient Swedish tradition of poking (“oh-lah,” ask a Swede about it). The group was great and I was very glad to share the time with them, but I will have to go back and hike the place properly.

The excursion out scratched my camping itch to some extent, but not enough. I decided out there that if I were to miss the Northern Territory on this trip it would be an absolute travesty, so upon returning I dropped a good chunk of cash on a flight to Darwin, a flight from Alice Springs back to Sydney, and a bus/camping trip to connect Darwin to Alice. As a bonus, there’s enough time before the bus trip to go walkabout in Kakadu for three days and just enough time before my flight out of Alice to go see the rock in the middle of the desert. After doing a report on it for folk fair in third grade, I couldn’t not go. It’ll be expensive, and a whirlwind of a week, but it is exactly what needs to happen.

So after a day here in Airlie taking care of some necessities (booking stuff, laundry, and a nap) and not going sailing like the other tourists, I push on to Cairns. Not bad for a rainy day in the tropics of Australia. Then somehow I’ll get on the reef and to a rainforest far away. Then 9 days in the Red Centre. I just wish it didn’t get dark so early here. No matter. No Sleep ‘Till Darwin.

Posted by davidtaus at July 21, 2005 02:54 AM | TrackBack