But the thing about living in Australia – a country the size of Europe with the population of Greater London – is that it’s just impossible to have trains leaving every five minutes to every populated patch of land. You’d need more train drivers than there are people across the whole continent! And so it has finally become necessary for me to evolve from Driven to Driver and procure my own set of wheels.

If I have to transport myself around though, I want to have fun. I can’t afford a plane or helicopter, a boat is only practical for seaside destinations, jet-packs are still far too impractical and economically inefficient, so that left me deciding on a motorbike. With the words from Iron Maiden’s From Here to Eternity and Megadeth’s 502 running through my head I completed a few hours of training, and was then sent through the gates of the training centre legally allowed to make a mess of myself on the Devil’s Bend or under any of the 88 wheels of a road train. I was back on track for that big Rock n Roll crash ending I’d always half-expected!

I won’t bore you with details of any of my near-misses, minor crashes, or even the major ones, but one phenomenon I have noticed which tickles me is the exclusive club I seem to have involuntarily joined. When I first started riding, I would occasionally think that I saw another rider on the road nod his head in my direction, but the more time I spent on the road the more I realised this was definitely happening. Maybe they think they recognised me – we must all look fairly similar with helmets and leathers on – but no, that’s not it. I know they can’t be acknowledging the quality of my ride; it’s a scuffed-up 22-year-old Japanese shit-heap! But still if a fellow rider pulled up beside me at the lights, cruised by whilst overtaking, or came past in the opposite lane he would look across and dip his head.

Then I realised this was simply an acknowledgement that we were on a vehicle with the same number of wheels. We were part of a prestigious club, albeit one which has millions of members nationwide. At first I thought it was as ludicrous as waving to everyone that drives past in a car the same colour as you, and laughed and ignored people who I saw doing it, but somehow I seem to have been taken in by it! As bikers we all share something more than just a choice of transportation; it’s a choice of lifestyle and a reflection of our personalities. Excitement determines what we do day-to-day, not practicality. We are thrill-seekers. We all think we have style; maybe even that we are the elite, better than everyone that needs four wheels to get around! And it’s not just a nod, it’s more akin to doffing one’s hat as a sign of mutual respect, or maybe a secret hand-shake! We share a secret – and that secret is how f***ing cool and liberating it is to be screaming down the road, leaning in to the corners, sailing past endless lines of traffic with the wind in our… helmets.

I’ve noticed a trend that certain riders do it more than others. Anyone on a cruiser, particularly a Harley, will always do it. Maybe because they’re the most pompous of all bike riders (I can’t wait to own one myself!) and yet no one on a moped will ever do it. Maybe they’re ashamed. I like to think so. Now when I find myself nodding at riders coming the other way I get a genuine sense of pride that I’m a biker as well. And I hate myself for it! What’s worse is that I get annoyed if they don’t do it back! There seems to actually be some people out there with enough of their own cool that they don’t need other people to acknowledge them to make them feel special. Bastards. Who do they think they are? I doffed my hat at you, sir, and you do not do likewise?! You have offended me and insulted my honour! Prepare to duel!

Or maybe I’m just over-thinking this.

I love that sentiment that where you end up has a lot to do with chance, and so I sometimes like to add a random element to my travels. So when money was dwindling and I was in need of moving on I started a search for a job across all of Australia. I knew I would probably have to take work in a city where most of the web development jobs were, but in addition to the big state capitals that offer most opportunities there are a plenty of smaller cities and towns which support enough business that the occasional computer programmer is required. I had worked in Sydney before, and knew there was plenty of work there, but I was hoping for something new; something that would take me to a new place where I could experience a new flavour of Australiana, meet new people – start a new chapter of my life.

I had been looking for a couple of weeks and heard very little other than the sycophantic calls from agents who have found me the ‘perfect match’ only never to call back again. It probably didn’t help that for half that time I had been on an island with no phone signal, or at least that is what I told myself to explain the lack of interest I was receiving. But eventually I got the call I had been waiting for, and an interview had been set up. So with an array of cheat-sheets spread out in front of me, I had the telephone interview that was hopefully going to determine where I would be living for the next few months.

I heard back from the interview in a couple of days, and was offered the job working as a Web Developer on the support team of a digital agency called Sputnik. So I put aside any reservations I had about having to go back to coding Classic ASP and started planning my move to Melbourne!

A week later and I was living in The Lord’s Lodge, a hostel I had stayed in before and which was a great place to meet people. The advantage of living in a hostel is everyone is there to make friends, everyone is new to the city or even to Australia, and everyone is up for a good time!

I had a couple of days to settle in before my job, so I unpacked my stuff and hung up my clothes for the first time in a couple of months. I had my own room – apparently a ‘bungalow’, though I think ‘potting shed’ was more appropriate, for although there weren’t too many freshly sprouted seedlings and garden tools, the place had a distinct air of a cramped garden shed about it that even the fairy lights around the window couldn’t dispel. I went to meet my agent and find out a bit more about the job. Well, that is why I went to meet her but not necessarily the outcome of our conversation. It seemed the job was a bit of a mystery, but would be fun. And once that was conversation was quickly dealt with we got on to more serious matters. Music. She’s very plugged in to the local musos’ scene and her boyfriend works in a guitar shop, so off we went to meet him and an hour later, on my first day in Melbourne, I was on the bus heading back to the hostel with a shiny new guitar and amplifier. I was ready to start city life!

The job turned out to be just as fun as I had hoped, and although there was a fair amount of Classic ASP support the job was so varied, working for dozens of clients throughout the week, I got to play with lots of websites, applications, and technologies. A few oldies required a bit of attention as I tried to remember concepts like XSLT coding from eight years ago, but I was pleased to be able to play with some more recent languages and new one ones too. But aside from the work, the place had a great energy to it. An open plan office with lots of areas to relax in – a nice coffee machine in the kitchen, bean bags and cushions spread over an area known as ‘the grassy knoll’, a fridge full of beer, even a room periodically reserved for massages! And the people I now work with are a good bunch too; some real boffins! One guy is using Arduino chips to help the office tomato plant send text messages and post instructions on Twitter when it needs watering or more sunlight; another person worth knowing is the guy who orders in our weekly hoard of beer and then promptly delivers the first one to your desk at 5pm every day! I can see myself getting used to this place.

Although at times I miss the mountain air or the solitude of island life, living in a city again has its advantages. It had been a while, and although I had spent a fair amount of time in my previous year pottering in London, Melbourne has a very different feel. I don’t live or work right in the CBD, so maybe that contributes a bit to the more laid back vibe, but I think it is something typical of most of the city; less rushing, less traffic, more smiling. And typically my first few nights out were spent getting to know the people who work in a few decent bars and restaurants! I quickly found out where to get the best coffees, beers, and cocktails. Which place serves the tastiest souvlaki and which to go to for some decent pasta; and where the best conversation and music can be heard.

Melbourne is as much a bohemian city as it is a metropolitan one. Street art is huge here, with tours operating to show the visitors to the city some of the finest examples. Every street corner or alleyway proclaims some mural of interest so it hardly seems necessary to join a group! There are plenty of buskers keeping the spirit of live music and celebration of freedom alive, such as Brendan who plays home-made ‘Dag Pipes’ made from an empty goon bag and an air-bed pump! Living practically on Chapel Street also meant I was close to both the fancy and the affordable – expensive restaurants and wine bars at one end and great local pubs at the other. The shops too cover all grounds, whether I want to buy a posh new frock or wander around the ‘op-shops’ looking for second hand treasures.

After a little over a week in The Lord’s Lodge I had drank too much, slept too little, and met lots of people. It was time to find a place of my own now I felt more at home and settled in, and it was with a professional skater amongst others that I decided to stay. It seemed a logical middle ground between a hostel and a quiet place of my own; with lots of visitors, friendly laid back people, and a kitchen and bathroom only shared with three other people!

And that’s where I am now living, gradually accruing more unnecessary baubles to adorn the room with – it started with pillows, posters and plants but slowly more is being added to make my room feel more like a home; a box or two of wine, a pile of books and an ever-growing collection of unsolved Rubik’s puzzles!

I’ve found Melbourne a difficult place to photograph; it would appear I’m much more at home with photographing lizards and trees – but I’ve tried to grab a few snaps, so take a look!

So when I saw a big cactus one day, covered with these delicious fruits which taste somewhere between watermelon and bubble gum, I was pleased at the chance to grab a few and strike back at this delicious weed, and do a bit for the native ecology. But I wasn’t the only one who had plans to striking out.

My first problem was the height of the cactus. The fruits were well out of reach, so I had to jump and grab. There are a few things I didn’t know about the prickly pear cactus which would have come in handy at this point. The first is that the pads are quite delicately attached to the bulk of the cactus, so if you try and pull a fruit that is still well attached you are liable to pull a branch covered with the things down on top of you. And the second thing I wasn’t aware of is that the little bastards have two types of spines on them. Each fruit might have a dozen visible spines like needles which are easily avoided, but they also have hundreds of hair-like spines which are so small they will cause hours of irritation over any part of exposed skin they come in to contact with. It was shortly after gathering a handful of them and sucking the sweet juice from my fingers that this last fact came into painful focus.

Imagine if you like, coming across a piece of wood covered in splinters and honey – and being too preoccupied with nature’s delicious natural sugars to stop and think before licking up the honey, splinters and all. At first it was a vaguely irritating sensation in my hands which I tried to remedy by finding all the little bastards and either plucking them out or more often snapping them off. Trying to dislodge those in the roof of my mouth with fingers still covered in the pesky needles seemed to be very counterproductive, and so eventually I resorted to donuts to flush the things through my system. Lots and lots of donuts.

So it was a couple of days before I felt an urge for sugary goodness which justified the inconvenience of the prickly fruits. But this time I was prepared! Using tongs (genius!) I held them over the gas burner on the hob and burnt all the little needles off. I imagined them screaming, in a fleeting moment of vindictive vengeance. And it was good. Cutting the skins off, and not being prickled once, I felt ready to enjoy the bright pink bounty staining the work top in front of me. So after a few quick samples, I threw the rest in a pot and cooked them up! I strained the juice after twenty minutes, added a heap of sugar, and cooked until it was too hot to continue stirring. When it gets hot enough, the sugar molecules change and then when the syrup cools it solidifies. So after a few minutes in the fridge, I had my first ever batch of prickly pear candy.

Vaguely pleasant to the taste, criminally dangerous to the teeth, and damaging to anything it came into contact with during the cooking process which wasn’t already pink. Probably easier to stick with chocolate.

Highlights:
- dozens of world class beers
- hearty main courses
- happy hours: 16:00-19:00 for drinks, 16:00-18:30 for food

Having recently moved to Melbourne my diary has been jam-packed with new bars, cafes and restaurants to try out. I wonder if I tried a different one for lunch and dinner every day whether I’d make it round them all before I struggled to fit through the doors, but that thought is not going to stop me from trying.

One of the cafes in Windsor that I have occasionally been dropping in to is the new Bohemia Cafe run by established head chef Viktor Sallay (Brighton Savoy Hotel, Hungarian kitchen at the Newmarket Hotel) and his business partner David Buchler. As with their other restaurant, Budapest restaurant and palinka bar, the aim of Bohemia is to deliver authentic Hungarian and European food and drink to the hungry and thirsty people of Melbourne. And they certainly deliver on this promise!

When he’s not needed in the kitchen, Viktor can often be seen at the tables in front of this tucked-away restaurant or hovering around the bar offering advice or conversation about the food and drink of his native Hungary. Having lived in Eastern Europe myself I can say that the best of the cuisine and beers are perfectly represented in Bohemia, whether you drop in for a delicious breakfast bagel topped with scrambled eggs and hollandaise sauce, a more substantial meal of stuffed schnitzel or goulash, or just want to try some of their expertly selected beers.

The menu evolves in complexity and variety as the day goes on but stays true to the restaurant’s European theme. The breakfasts served at the weekend combine the traditional bagel with a variety of accompaniments such as eggs, bacon, sausages, and much more if you’re feeling particularly hungry. There are simple lunchtime dishes; goulash, schnitzel, and salads or daily specials such as pastas. The evening choices, some of which are discounted during happy hour, include starters such as deep fried camembert which is crumbed with a crispy and crunchy coating served with csiki dipping sauce made from mayonnaise, beetroot, apple, onion and mushroom which complements the flavour of the cheese excellently. There are also the cevapcici skinless sausages which are well spiced and char grilled to give them an authentic flavour. The mains include a perfectly cooked half-duck with an abundance of moist meat and delicately flavoured crispy skin served with a heap of peasants’ mash and red cabbage and many signature stuffed schnitzels. The goulash is also perfectly prepared with a delicious creamy paprika sauce and Hungarian nokedli dumplings, and although the meat could have been of a higher quality I think this would have detracted from its authenticity!

To accompany these dishes is a selection from a drinks menu even longer than their food listing. This includes a good variety of wines and spirits (including several types of slivovitz, palinka, and absinthes) but it is in the choice of beers that this part of the menu really excels. On tap is Krusovice – a flavoursome Czech bitter lager, and Shofferhofer – an aromatic and fruity German wheat beer with undertones of banana. In addition to these are a large variety of bottled beers from all over Europe. Notable highlights include the multi award winning Krusovice Cerny for fans of a full flavoured dark beer, and Svijany, a classically produced Czech pilsner with no preservatives.

And if you have any room left after all that – a position I am yet to be in – I am told that the pancakes are pretty good as well!

It helped that the setting I had in mind was a tropical island in North Queensland. There’s something about remoteness that I think consolidates a community, brings people out of their shell and encourages friendships to become very strong very quickly. Maybe I’m just being overly-sentimental, but the friendships I made in six weeks living on Magnetic Island made such a huge difference to my time in Australia. The send-off party we had when we left was the most surprising event of all – with all sorts of people coming out to wish us bon voyage, and I was eager to get back and see them all.

I arrived at Townsville airport not long before Matt arrived back from his latest stint in the mines. When I moved out of my room on the Island Matt moved in, and I was looking forward to spending some time catching up whilst I stayed with him and Anthony, and Matt’s better half Jenna. I say ‘better half’ because I very quickly found out that Jenna was not only outside the airport waiting to take us to the Island in her ute, but she was also going to be stopping off at the bottle-shop to fill the back with lovely cold beers and as many boxes of wine as we could carry out of the shop!

The next few days were spent wandering between bars along the bay front; starting the days with bloody Mary’s and following them with jug after jug of margaritas in Noodies On The Beach, then after a plate of nachos maybe we’d head down to The Marlin Bar for a couple of jugs of beer and a steak, then back to Noodies. There’s not a lot of choice on that corner of the island, but when you have plenty of sun, good company and the bar owner insists on putting a sombrero on your head to commemorate your commitment to cocktails, you can’t really find fault with life. It’s just a great place to while away the days. There were lots of people I wanted to catch up with, and you could guarantee most of them would wander by at some point. So it was mainly outside these bars that I was able to catch up with old friends and make a few new ones as well.

After a week I went to stay with two other wonderful friends, Ally and Danielle, who came over from England a couple of years ago and have been living on the island ever since. Their house is in an amazing setting. Practically opening out into a currently completely parched lagoon, you can sit on the veranda on one side of the house and see lush rainforest trees and plants in any direction, see a dozen different coloured dragon flies around the pond, the sunbird nesting next to the porch door, hear the koalas grumbling in the trees, and the wallabies bounding across the neighbouring gardens.

A new addition to their family is Juno, a little Jack Russell / Papillon with as much character as he has energy and boldness! I learnt very quickly that if you throw him a ball or a bottle-top you will have a friend for life. And he was incessant! I don’t think there was a single occasion where he tired before my arm and my patience! And next door is Natalie who we partied with plenty of times when we lived together a year ago, and who now lives with, amongst others, Juno’s sister Phoebe. Lots of fun was to be had with the two dogs, especially when splashing them from Natalie’s pool and watching the pair of them try everything possible to get the balls out of the pool short of going in themselves. Strange creatures.

The island is full of other strange animals too, and I suppose I couldn’t leave them out of any discussion about the personalities that draw me to the island. There is my favourite spider on the island: the golden orb weaver. A huge and elegant looking arachnid with bright golden bands around its knees, not particularly venomous, but you would certainly notice its fangs sinking into your skin! There are also a couple of species of bat on the island, the large fruit bats which can be heard swooping over head or screeching in the trees where they roost, and a smaller bat which likes to hide in the eaves of old abandoned buildings such as an old gun entrenchments or powder store up on the hill. Also up there are the always fascinating koalas. It’s not uncommon to see them on the island as it houses the largest wild colony of the animals of an estimated 300. The ones that stand out from this visit where a pair I found sitting half way up a tree, and managed to get very close to. I climbed up the cliff face and sat on a rock so I was head height with the mother and four or five-month old Joey, and spent the best part of an hour just sitting and watching. The baby was fascinated by me, but the mother wasn’t so sure. She would steer him away with a firm hand on his shoulders until he was round the other side of the tree branch, but the cheeky little one would clamber and wriggle and sneak round until he could sit and watch me again. Eventually the mother gave up trying to stop him, and they both sat there nibbling on leaves whilst I watched and enjoyed their sedentary company.

I spent some time with other animals as well, which I hadn’t really considered when I was there before: the island’s horses. Danielle was working on a ranch, so one day I joined her and the other workers on a ride out across the island. I hadn’t been on a horse for many years, and think I was probably less than graceful as I struggled to make the beast move, or stop, or just try and hold on without getting too injured in the process. It was certainly a couple of days before I could sit down comfortably afterwards! I’m sure there must be a better design for a saddle, one which takes the male anatomy into consideration; or maybe I just need to learn how to sit in it properly.

It was a great way to see the island, going down a few tracks I hadn’t seen before and then arriving at the end of the long Horseshoe bay beach and pelting down it clinging on to my horse and desperately trying to steer him away from the trees with low branches he seemed intent on trying to brain me with. After the run, we cooled off in the sea, riding our swimming horses bare-back, listening to them snorting and playing in the surf and dodging the occasionally floating accident.

A couple of nights later we were all back down that end of the beach, sitting round a huge fire – drinking, dancing, fire spinning and celebrating. Day or night, the beach is a great place to relax and so it was with a modicum of inebriation I spent another great night on the island with my friends.

I hope you like the photos I took on this visit to Magnetic Island

I’ve been asked many times why I like Australia so much and why I want to live here, and I struggle to put it in to words every time. The country holds so many attractions to me, the mystery of the vast expanse that I have yet to explore, the friendliness of the people I have met at every town I have visited, the honest and forthright attitude of the society, the fact that it isn’t Britain – there are truly too many reasons to possibly mention.

And now I was back in the country I had been missing I had to decide where to spend those first few weeks. It wasn’t really a decision I had much of a part in – my heart led me straight back to Katoomba in the Blue Mountains where I had spent so many happy weeks throughout my previous year here. It was easy to settle back into life at The Flying Fox Backpackers, chopping wood for the evening fires, chatting to the people visiting from all sorts of places, and exploring the surrounding countryside. There is no other time I feel more content than when walking through the bush, and the Blue Mountains has some exquisite national parks in which to seek out Australian nature.

The area around Katoomba is a great place to get a taste the New South Wales bushland, as the walks are accessible, and the wildlife easy to spot. Around Echo Point there are sulphur crested and black cockatoos, rosellas, and the hugely vocal lyre birds, beautiful rock formations, there were waterfalls after the recent rain, and plenty of skinks, bearded dragons and other lizards basking on the hot rocks.

One day I was exploring a national park further down the mountain at Springwood. I had been walking down a path for a while when I saw a sign indicating the location of a pool someway off over the rocks – so away I scrambled. It may not have been entirely the correct route I was taking, or if it was this certainly wasn’t the path for the unadventurous. I made my way under, round, and through the trees covering the track; hopped from rock to rock, and edged closer to a rock wall I presumed must have held the pool. I was close before too long, and saw a huge lizard on a rock in front of me, so slowly squatting down I levelled the camera and made to take the photo. Then I saw something bright moving in the branches to me left – a snake!

I had seen snakes in Australia before, but never an unidentified one quite so close to my face. It was definitely within striking distance if it was so inclined to have a nip at me. Not so big that it would try and have me for dinner, but in a nation where a spider the size of a pea will still try and have a go at bringing you down – and potentially succeed – I didn’t want to take any chances.

So I froze.

There was not a lot more I could do! But he didn’t seem to be bothered by me, so as I felt more comfortable I started to enjoy his company. I took some photos, I must admit I even chatted to it for a while, and then when he began to slide off into the leaves I also made my decision to move on and resume my search for the pool.

I felt good that the snake was behind me, however pleased I was that I had actually seen it, and quickly put a few more meters between us and climbed over the rock wall. My heart still pumping from the adrenaline, I bounded across a few big boulders and was soon at the pool’s edge looking for yabbies and other small critters. I got close to the surface of the water and started peering in, trying to get glimpses under the rocks at the edge where the pretty little creatures like to hide, and in seconds realised I had moved my face within inches of another snake half hidden in the water! It was the same as the last one, but now I knew they were not only fond of lurking at head-height in trees but also were semi-aquatic hunters as well. His head was high out of the water and his gaze was locked with mine. I slowly backed away and sat atop the boulder I had clambered over, knowing that there was at least one snake behind me and one in front.

I gradually relaxed again, and took the time to take some photos of my new friend and enjoyed the sun and the serenity of the pool for a while. I had been sitting still for so long the wildlife was starting to come out all around me. The crimson rosellas and currawongs were close by in the trees around the pool, there were several skinks sunning themselves on the rocks, and I saw a water dragon scuttle over a boulder next to me and perch across the top. But I wasn’t the only one to spot him. At once I saw a flicker of yellow and green and a third snake dropped out of the tree above me, practically on top of me and sprung for the little water dragon. My heart was in my mouth! I hadn’t seen or heard this one approach, and suddenly it was in my lap and on the hunt! I felt claustrophobic despite the vastness of the area I was sitting in, convinced that every rock concealed a potentially dangerous critter, and knowing I was alone and far from the track. That it when I decided to leave, and ever so cautiously, inspecting every branch several times to ensure it wasn’t an animal before moving underneath them or pushing them aside I made my way back to the trail.

With renewed vigour and a rediscovered feeling of security I continued along the track for a few more hours, chasing yellow-tailed black cockatoos, huge lizards, dragon flies, and all sorts of birds – but at least partly to my relief I didn’t see any more snakes that day.

When I returned to the hostel I spoke to my herpetologist friend who helped me identify the snakes I had spent the majority of the afternoon with; A harmless tree snake that probably couldn’t even puncture my skin if it tried. I can’t wait to see them again, and next time I hope I won’t wet myself!

Pictures from those first few weeks, including plenty of the snakes are in my Blue Mountains gallery

We had around four hours at the reef but the time flew by. There was just so much to see that every second something new appeared and took our attention. Immediately after plunging into the water we saw massive Spangled Emperors, Red Bass Snappers and Yellowtail Fusiliers that had come to the boat-side knowing there would be food thrown in the water for them. Some were nearly a metre long and looked strong enough to tow us along if we had grabbed hold of them as they swam past. They were very used to people being in the sea with them, and brushed past me more than once without worrying at all. In fact most of the fish were like that, excluding a few of the more timid little fish that darted in and out of their hiding places in the corals.

There were also fantastic corals all around – such strange shapes and structures from the pointy Staghorn corals to the lumpy Brain and Lunar corals. Amongst them were Giant Clams, some a metre and a half across, brilliantly coloured Blue Sea Stars, urchins, and Sea Cucumbers. It was difficult to take it all in!

We were able to identify quite a lot of the fish thanks to ID cards we bought on the boat, and amongst my favorite sightings were the Moorish Idol, Bicolor Angel, Humbug Damsel, Bluegreen Damsel, Blue Devil Damsel – which were all small brightly coloured fish found darting around the corals; and the Spotted Unicornfish, Yellow Boxfish, Trumpetfish, Wrasse (including the Harlequin Tuskfish, Sixbar, Moon and Bird Wrasse), and many types of Parrotfish which were sometimes over a metre in length and much more docile as they cruised around in the waters.

There were a couple of highlights for me, though. Knowing that there had been a sighting of a turtle 50m from the starboard side of the boat I went looking for him and after fifteen minutes of drifting around the edge of the reef I spotted a big grey shape twenty-five metres ahead with flippers and a little head which was tearing at the coral, looking for juicy morsels to eat. He was well camouflaged, but I could see the patterned shell when I got closer, and the two Blue Angel fish swimming by his head picking up the bits he left behind. Swimming back to the boat a little later I came across two squid which were right in front of me, and even more impressive than the turtle. One tried to chase the other smaller squid away and emitted a pulse which effervesced through its body in a wave of multicoloured light. I in turn, chased that one for a while but couldn’t manage to make myself glow in the same way that scared the little fellow off. But I had fun all the same!

It was a tiring but incredibly memorable day. To be immersed in the world of hundreds of fish, swarming around in every direction is indescribable – an assault of colour and movement from above and below, left, and right, in front and behind. As soon as we were out of the water and on our way home we were planning our next trip out there.

One of the things about an isolated place such as Maggie or another frequently visited paradise of Katoomba in the Blue Mountains is that the people found there have decided to specifically spend their time in that place. You have no people passing-through, and rarely find day-trippers, so everyone there really wants to be there . Those that choose to make it their home are unique in their desire to be away from bustling cities and towns, and the small tight-knit communities they live in means only the most friendly and sociable can survive. So in retrospect, it was no great surprise that by lunchtime we had been invited to stay in several different houses throughout the island.

Anthony is a chef on the island, one of only a handful of trades that really exists here, and moved from a small flat in Sydney to a big house in Horseshoe Bay a couple of years ago. We met him briefly at a party the night before, but he was very eager for us to come and share his house with him and an English girl, Natalie, who worked at the wildlife sanctuary in the bay. And for the price of four nights at Bungalow Bay, we had our room for the month in a beautiful, spacious house with massive living area, pool table, huge kitchen, and lovely gardens.

When we returned from Townsville the next day the parties began again, starting on the beach and ending up back at our new house – and going on well into the night! We saw familiar and new faces come and go and made many friends very quickly. It helps having a pool table in the front room! When the first couple of days had passed and the house-warming had subsided we built up our connections with other businesses on the island – it never hurts to be friends with the local restaurant owners – including of course Ferrari’s, the tapas bar on the beach front where we drank sangria on the hot afternoons.

Exploring the island was another joy that we immediately took to, and we found a track to the local pub which took us through a tropical wetland reserve past 40m high bamboo and palm leaves as big as houses. The locals called it the ‘butterfly walk’ – and hundreds of white-tipped crow and blue-spotted tiger butterflies flitted through the air above the path. The walk was also a great place to spot other wildlife – dozens of different types of kingfishers, impressive pheasants, bush hens, wallabies, kangaroos, pademelons, echidnas, and spiders – to name a few. On the opposite side of the bay was a huge lagoon filled with geese, moor-hens, lizards, snakes, dragon-flies, and much, much more. It was a wildlife paradise!

We found that the best way of getting to the other side of the island, about 8km away over quite a steep hill, was to hitch-hike. There’s only one real road, so everyone passing would have to be going to where we wanted to go. It never took more than three cars passing before someone stopped to pick us up. This was how we went to Picnic Bay one evening to join in with a music jam and watch fire-spinning on the beach. The fire spinning was enough to inspire me and Matt to give it a try ourselves and we have the burn marks and bald patches to prove our incompetence! We also hitched to and from Arcadia one evening to watch the weekly toad races. My toad, Purple People Eater, came in third – but he looked like he tried hard!

We explored more of the bays on the island and found each one to be uniquely appealing. At the tip of the island is an area known as West Point where we went for sunset and saw that the water was as still as a mirror with ripples only made by the fish breaking the surface. Another bay was perfect for spear-fishing and snorkeling and others were ideal for sleeping on underneath a coconut or pawpaw tree. Living on this island for the last few weeks of our Australian adventure was going to be a real chore.

The 15 minute ferry journey from Townsville was choppy, but quick and after a short bus journey from the harbour to gave us a glimpse of the tropical island before dropping us of at our hostel, Bungalow Bay. The accommodation at the hostel is mainly A-frame ‘bungalows’ scattered throughout six acres of bushland, so we dumped our bags in one of them and headed straight for the beach. Standing with the sand between my toes, I realized it had been nearly six months since I had been on a beach; and although that was because I much prefer trekking through the bush than paddling at the water front, I vowed to spend some serious time laying in the sun and listening to the sounds of the waves whilst I was here.

Close to the beach was a convenient pub, so we sat outside with a few cold beers and discussed our plans for the next few days. Matt had been on the island several times, so with him as our guide, we planned a 12km walk for the following day to explore some of the islands secluded bays.

The day was hot, dry, and clear – so even though the scrambling through small tracks was hard work it wasn’t too uncomfortable. And at each bay we arrived at we could cool down in the water and dry off in the sun before wandering on to the next bay. We even saw a group of humpback whales off the coast as we were sitting under a palm on one of the beaches. One of the peaks of the island is renowned for the beautiful views at the top and the koalas living in the trees on its slopes – so our final slog for the day was up to the old WW II lookout built at the top of this hill. It didn’t take long for me to spot a sleepy grey lump nestled in between two branches, and I watched him yawning, growling, and dozing for about twenty minutes. He was completely indifferent to my presence and only looked up lazily when I made some noises to get his attention and quickly returned to his afternoon nap. Further up the track we found another large male who was also growling and grumbling to no one in particular – but the highlight of the day was coming across a mother and joey as we were returning down the hillside. They were awake and looking around when we spotted them, and gradually began making their way up the branches to get some dinner. The joey clung to the mother’s back until her weight prevented her from getting any higher and then the joey set out on its own, under the ever vigilant gaze of mum, to get the tender eucalyptus tips on the thin top branches.

There is an amazing amount of wildlife on the island. Some of it uniquely found here, and a lot of it is indigenous but animals like the koalas and a few of the other endangered species were brought over here when extinction seemed likely on the mainland. The possums however are not endangered by any means, and manage to get everywhere. Some consider them pests and vermin but their playful demeanour and inherent cuteness makes it difficult for us tourists to dislike these animals that pop up as soon as people start preparing dinner in the evenings. They know exactly where to go to scrounge the best meals! And of course there are the usual hoards of wallaby and pademelon in the fields at dusk.

There are also 150 different bird species living on the island such as sea eagles wedge-tail eagles, ospreys, owls, hawks, bush hens, kingfishers, pheasants, lorakeets, parrots, and curlews. The lorakeets are beautiful and very tame, and swarm down in their hundreds to eat food offered by the tourists. Not so amiable however are the curlews, a type of plover, which gracefully struts around the island but enjoys shrieking a piercing, haunted scream when it feels threatened, or lost, or finds food, or apparently whenever it feels like it. Usually in the early hours of the morning.

There are plenty of interesting plants on the island, too. Massive tropical leaves line the roads, up to 30ft tall, and there are dozens of different palms on the island. I saw a sign that warned of falling fruit – quite a risk when the fruits are as big as paw paws or coconuts; and when you aren’t looking out for attacks from above, it’s helpful to keep an eye on the floor as there are plenty of vicious spiders and snakes around, including the notorious death adder which I’m sure needs no further explanation. There are also some pretty nasty ants with green abdomens filled with formic acid – the same acid that gives citrus fruits their sharpness – so you can imagine what it feels like when they bite. Like a lemon squeezed into a fresh cut. But also like a lemon, the ants can be turned into a tea, or just licked on the bum to get a lovely burst of sour freshness. Yummy!

One morning I got up early to have breakfast with the koalas in the neighbouring sanctuary, which gave me an opportunity to eat and drink loads (a breakfast is only worth getting up early for if its a self-service buffet served with champagne) and get close to some of the animals. Barney the koala was a heavy but cooperative lump of grey fur that smelt like a mixture between eucalyptus and sweaty arse, and quite happily went to sleep as soon as he found a comfortable way to nestle between my arms and chest – though being a ‘boob man’, he did seem to have a more contented smile on his face when the girls were holding him. There were also cockatoos, crocodiles and carpet pythons which came out to join us for brekky, and later we were able to explore the rest of the sanctuary and had an opportunity to handle some of the other animals like the lizards and echidnas that hadn’t made it to breakfast. The guy that showed us around was an obvious reptile lover, and told us plenty of interesting things about them. He was particularly impassioned by the fate of the crocodiles – all twenty-three species of which are endangered, yet they are still being farmed for their leather and meat. People tend to turn a blind eye, maybe because it is a reptile and people have difficulty relating to them compared with cute and cuddly pandas, or maybe because of their reputation as man-eaters. Even though only thirty-eight people have been killed by crocodiles in Australia in 200 years, and all have been either drunk Australians or German tourists splashing through known crocodile infestations at night when the crocs are most active. Either way, I don’t think the poor fellows can be blamed for getting a little snappy.

Yet more wild life lurked beneath the waters, so on a couple of days we hired some snorkelling gear and went for a swim around the reefs. Water is not something I’m particularly comfortable in and putting my head under the surface and breathing through the snorkel felt very unnatural at first, but the lure of brightly coloured curios swimming amongst the corals made me forget about my apprehensions and soon I was gliding along with the little box fish, rass, and huge green and blue parrot fish that had also come to spend a day out on the reefs.

Tropical islands encourage a certain way of life from their inhabitants, where daily activities start when the sun comes up and end shortly after it has set. The days here have been beautiful, with clear skies and extraordinary heat that invokes a fabulous laziness – whether that is spent lying on beaches or lazing outside bars. The heat can be quite energy sapping, so bars and restaurants close early so their employees and patrons alike can get a good night’s sleep before the day’s routines start again – but there are hidden pockets of night-life on the island for the discerning party-goer to seek out and enjoy! The hostel has a bar next to a pool which is open later than any other in Horseshoe Bay – sometimes 10pm – and it is there that the locals and travellers can often be found towards the end of the night. So when the number of beers consumed is just right, that is also where the plans for parties are hatched, and from there we met some great locals – Aussies and Brits – who were always up for a good time.

Let the parties begin!

The van had been ‘affectionately’ named Basil after the plant of the same name that lived in the van with us for a few months and also after Basil Fawlty, on account of the tendency for the thing to break down at the smallest sign of pressure. Breaking down was in fact the van’s speciality, and we had spent many times the original cost of the rust bucket on repairs over the last few months. Knowing this, we had tried to limit the driving to a couple of hours a day in order to give him a bit of a break, but now we had a long distance to travel and not much time to do it in. The first day was fine, stopping at a caravan park overnight a few hundred kilometres from Brisbane overnight, but the fun began half way through the afternoon when Basil decided it was too bloody hot in Queensland, and that he’d had enough. So with many breaks and a decidedly sluggish pace, we made our way to the closest town of Gladstone to let him have a nice long break. But even with this rest and a fresh radiator of coolant, we hadn’t even made it to the edge of town before he started protesting again, and we accepted that we were spending the night there.

Luckily for us, the nearby yacht club had excellent food in massive portions, so after having our dinner and taking away the leftovers (which lasted us each another 2 meals) we retired to the still smouldering van for an early night. On the way back we noticed a warning sign close to where we had parked. We had seen plenty before – warning about spiders or snakes – but this one told the tale of a terrible blight on the local community: vicious kamikaze magpies. Even the Aussie birds are out to get us!

The next day we continued driving through fields of ripe sugar cane and yellow grass, watching the landscape slowly change from the green of New South Wales to the dusty tones of much drier Queensland. Mountains sprung up, blue and hazy in the distance, and then seemed to approach as we continued on, turning greener as we neared and disappearing into the distance as we passed into new countryside. More signs warning of the proximity of the elusive koalas appeared at the sides of the road, and plenty for the cattle which dotted the fields that we were driving through and occasionally spilled onto the road. But rather than wildlife, it was the bloody van which dominated our attention again that day. Guzzling water, belching steam, and grumbling all the while. We made it a little under 400km before we had to stop to give it a 4 litre drink, and then plodded onwards again, ever wary of the temperamental temperature dial.

Finally, after consuming what must have been close to twenty litres of water, we pulled into Townsville, an industrial town nestled below a huge red rock escarpment. Now my only hope is that we can find an honest mechanic!

Posted by Rick Giner at Tuesday, August 26, 2008 0 comments

Sunday, August 24, 2008

A Weekend in Brisbane

Our last morning in Byron Bay started slowly on account of the beers consumed the night before, but by midday we were on the road to Brisbane where we were meeting our friends Mike and Bex. We had originally met them in the Blue Mountains before Christmas, and seen them a few times since, but just a couple of weeks after we moved to Sydney they moved away to Brisbane (though they assured us there was no connection) and we were keen to have a weekend of drunkenness with some familiar faces.

Being on the road, or even when settling in a town for just a short while, most friends that you make are for one night only! Stories exchanged in the pub or round a fire at night are always entertaining – you always remember and retell your most exciting tales – but the start of the night tends to follows a tedious pattern of introductions and exchanging background stories and that level of familiarity that defines the relationship between good friends is rarely reached. So when you hit it off with fellow travelers, spend some time together and stay in touch, it’s always worth the effort to ensure your paths cross again.

So it was with no lack of excitement that we made the uneventful journey 150km north to Brisbane and the state of Queensland to visit our friends that we hadn’t seen for nearly six months. They had been living in a beautiful ‘Queenslander’ house; a roomy wooden structure on stilts with various levels and open spaces to encourage a cooling flow of air. But it was straight out to the garden we went to discuss our latest adventures and plans for the upcoming weeks. The weather was noticeably better than it had been in Sydney – staying warmer further into the evening and without a cloud in the sky all day.

That evening we went into the city to see a band that had been recommended to Mike – and to our surprise it was a band we knew! I had spent a while discussing slide-guitar with the main guitarist/singer in Byron Bay before his solo gig, but then missed most of his set that evening. So now was my chance to catch him again and this time with his band The Lapdogz. He didn’t disappoint and neither did the opening act, Mark Easton Limousine, who played two equally impressive blues sets.

It was a little late when we finally stumbled out of the pub and into a cab that the more inebriated of us were very surprising to find waiting outside. And so it was with a slightly fuzzy head that we found ourselves walking to the market early the following morning. We’d missed most of the markets on the way up, so I was keen to dive headlong into the throng when we arrived. One of my favourite things about markets is the abundance of food stalls – and so I strolled through the crowds with a skewer of pork balls in one hand, a cup of freshly squeezed sugar cane juice in my other hand, and a lady finger banana in my pocket waiting for one of my hands to become free. The fruit and veg were amazingly fresh and cheap, but it was the temptation of the fried foods that mostly won out. As we left the market we saw a corner of a main street that looked like an allotment – and that was more-or-less what it was. An organic community garden where everything from broccoli to paw paw was being grown; with no fences or gate, and no vandalism either! It’s a shame when a thought like that occurs, but when it did I felt it illustrated the difference between Australians and Brits perfectly – and markedly increased my resolve to stay amongst these people.

With a couple of brief stops on the way home for cakes, smoothies, and sausage rolls, we made it back shortly after midday. I was stuffed and ready for a kip; but managed to hold out until around midnight and spent the rest of the day strolling through parks and sitting in the garden with jugs of freshly made sangria and great friends.