Gone chasin' waterfalls

DAY 19
Temp: 18 C
Weather: Partly cloudy
Activities: Mount Keira, Six Daughters of the West Wind, the Abbey, Carrington Falls in Jamberoo National Park, the Yellow Sand Road to Belmore Falls and Fitzroy Falls in Morton National Park, Rainforest Loop Walk in Budderoo National Park,
Accommodation: Selby residence 

Contrary to TLC's advice, I did go chasing waterfalls with my host, guide, and cook Paul all over Morton National Park. I think we hit a total of five or six falls by the end of the day in a race against the sun and night chill.

The morning started off leisurely enough with a feast of pancakes, real butter, and sweet maple syrup with homemade ice cream. I thought I could stop at one and ended eating two after all was said and done because it was just that delicious. (Thank you Cath!) Then Paul and I packed up the car for the day's activities including a bodyboard and fins, lunch, water, towels, GPS, and cords, piled in and headed off.

We left around 10:30 a.m. or so and headed down the road toward the national parks, but Paul, being who he is, decided to take a sharp detour to Mount Keira when he pointed it out and I leaned out to see it. We swerved off the main road and drove the winding one up to the peak where I got to take in the sweeping views of Wollongong, its suburbs, and the vast Pacific Ocean. The Wollongong Botanic Garden on the mountain summit was where Paul and his sweet wife had their reception. We did the bush walk to the other lookout and braved the cliffs for another view of Wollongong and its jungles. This spot had several pyramids of sticks in a semi-circle called the "Six Daughters of the West Wind" which was pretty neat. We had a run about race before heading off to the parks.

We rolled along down the highway and off the major road and still in the spirit of that spontaneity we went off to see this quiet little church Abbey. But we stopped on the road when I spoke aloud about the gorgeous trees wearing their fall colors. I haven't seen an autumn in years and Paul pulled off the road right then to let me get some shots and just be out in it. It was lovely! He's very picture happy himself which suits me. We kept on until reaching the Abbey, walked down the colorful path to the craft house and poked around. Lots of religious things around naturally and they did have Paperback products which I love! (But I really have enough notebooks for the moment.)

After the Abbey and its spangled road of color, we continued on to Morton National Park but did yet another spontaneous stop at the Illawarra Tree Top walk--which would have been totally awesome but not for $24. Nah. But the place was very peaceful as it was in the Abbey. So I can claim I've been there but haven't actually gone through it. The pictures of it looked very nice though! We had falls to see anyway.

Having reached the park for Carrington Falls, Paul and I staked camp on a picnic table for a well-deserved lunch around 1:20 p.m. or so. Bringing out the buttered rolls, cheese and assorted vegetables, Paul realized he'd never packed the lunch meat. He tried to palm off the blame on me because I am pretty distracting, but having been blamed for my share of things for simply being a 'Yank,' I finally had my own ammunition. About time. What a ham!

After lunch, we walked along the path to Carrington Falls which was as impressive as it was high--some 98 meters. The falls were full and broad and absolutely  beautiful. Three runners spilling into a single, massive royal. Beautiful. A little chilly with the wind, but Paul and I ran along the path, jumped the fence (Paul had to pull me over, but it worked because he's a giant) and spirited over the rocks above the falls. Paul is crazy--he loves to perch himself over the edge of the rocks, I didn't. Having been silly in the Grand Canyon can humble you. So while he went nuts, I hopped around enjoying the sun and rushing water from a distance.

After Carrington, Paul and I went on through Robertson township hunting for the Fitzroy Falls and ended taking a detour to the Belmore Falls. There were some men putting down some yellow sand to sure up the path, but they were gone when we got back. This place again had the sweeping view but of mountains and country and with the shadows lengthening in the winter sun. We could hear the falls from where we'd entered the walk and went off the track again to enjoy the view before racing off to find the falls. Belmore was not as wide as the Carrington but it tumbled down in two sections--the first dropped into a pool midway down and the second crashed into the beyond because we couldn't see the bottom. Altogether, the falls added up to about 78 meters. Still quite a drop! We literally skipped back to the car. We stopped when we came up to a path of yellow sand and Paul told me to stop. He took a picture and simply said: "Yellow brick road." Indeed, it was my journey through Oz! I asked him if he wanted to be the lion, the tin man or the scarecrow, and I settled on the giant that was also in the story. The big one.

On the way out of Belmore, we crossed a bit of the road where the water spilled over and, feeling a natural high from nature and the power of the waterfalls, I jumped right out of the car and ran down to the water to feel it. To feel that rush the water must feel before taking that plunge. It wasn't as cold as I thought it would be. I'd be excited too.

Winding out of Belmore, we finally reached out intended destination at the Fitzroy Falls around 4:10 or so. It cost us a gnarly $3 to park (I really think we could have beat any parking lot police roaming about in our brief tour), and we went through the visitor's center and its restaurant to reach the path--a quick 150 meters later we were standing over the falls on this wooden platform. I'll admit I shrank from the edge because this platform was precariously perched right over the edge. We tossed some eucalyptus leaves over the side to watch them flutter and I lost my nerve and edged back. Respect. But these falls were lovely too! Solid as it crumbled over the edge.

We saw there were a few more falls not too far down the path (about 1200 meters) and beat out way down the well-groomed path. We came across a local and her sister touring the area and I volunteered Paul to take their picture together, which he did, then they offered to get a shot of us. We kept them company all along the way to the Twin Falls, which were separated by some stretch of rock wall, chatted a bit with our new friends, then took off at a run to get back to the car. I took the lead leaving Paul to puff and heave in my wake and slowing only until we reached an upward section of stairs. Stairs. We ran a good distance and took the rest of the walk at a fast step as the sun set.

Settled back in the car, Paul drove us back--stopping only to get gas--and got us home. I had a proper sandwich then as I was very hungry from the lunch we'd had hours ago. This was to tide me over as we waited for the homemade pizza Paul made us. I caught up with Cath and his mother Laurice while we all waited for the grub that was totally worth the wait. Cath popped in a video where we watched Paul and a group of folks under the power of Steven Spellmaster. It was quite funny to say the least. I choked on my pizza at one point. We each got a whole pizza. I got onion, bell pepper, chicken, cheese, and spices and it was absolutely delicious! So delicious that I ate the whole thing but for one slice.

I meant to stay up to watch Ocean's Eleven since I've never seen it, but as midnight rolled around, I was done. Completely done. I went through my night routine and dropped off to bed immediately after a full day of adventure! Whew!    

Sydney, Sydney, Sydney!

DAY 16
Location: Sydney
Temp: 22 C to 16 C
Weather: Glorious sunshiny day
Activities: Paddy's Market, Chinese Garden of Friendship (from the outside), Harbourside, Sydney's Visitor Center, Sydney Opera House for Henry 4 play, Royal Botanical Gardens, Vivid Lights show, long walk home
Accommodation: WakeUp!

It's already been an adventure since I boarded the bus from Newcastle that would take me to Sydney.

The two-and-a-half hour ride was perhaps my shortest drive between cities and my head was twisting left and right for the last half hour as we snaked our way into Sydney. I spied this massive blue bridge that simply could not be any other than Harbour Bridge in the distance, and I hoped beyond hope that we would cross it. We did. And I picked the right seat because I saw the Sydney Opera House there flashing her brilliant Vivid Live show colors before Sydney Harbor. To say my excitement was through the roof would be an understatement. This sprawling city is huge. I tried to remember a store or two that might capture my interest, but quickly lost their location as we dove into the concrete jungle.

But as soon as we crossed the bridge, the rain started. Heavy rain, pouring rain, chilling rain, and I knew I was going to have to walk in yet another 'pissing down' downpour to find my hostel--in the dark--as our bus pulled up to the major transit station in Sydney Central. All I knew was I had to go left once I got off. I proceeded left and hugged the building as long as I could before being forced out into the rain, hunting and hunting for Wakeup! I found the Sydney Central hostel right away, directly across from the transit center and knew my hostel was just up the street...somewhere. It was hard to see through the rain. At nearly midnight. Avoiding being completely soaked by all the traffic.

I reached the end of the street, dripping with cold, and couldn't locate Wakeup! And ultimately decided to go back to the Sydney Central I saw to ask for directions. But as I walked up the street, I saw the Wakeup banners lining the corner building and realized I'd stumbled upon it. I took shelter in one eave next to one girl and asked how to get in. "You want to go in?" She swiped her magnetic card and away I went--grateful to finally be out of the rain.

I got checked in and secured my key, a map, and vouchers for the local Side Bar on the bottom floor, and proceeded up to my 8-bed dorm.

A bunch of noisy kids, was the first thing that popped up into my mind when I entered, which either betrays my age or my exhaustion at this point as these barely out of high school kids watched videos on their devices and pumped music right there in this high-ceiling room. I dropped my stuff and promptly went to shower, planning how I could be just as inconsiderate in the morning as they were being now, but came back to a dark room. Shocked, but not complaining, I went right to sleep!

I set my alarm for 7 a.m. but didn't actually roll out of bed until 8, figuring the free bus around town didn't even pick up folks until 9:30. Besides, I had a few hours before I had to appear at the Opera House to catch my show. The weather showed mercy on me and the sun beat away the clouds. Though it was still a crisp morning, it would eventually be a warm day!

I walked out with my map securely stowed and headed for Chinatown, where I knew I could purchase the things I wanted on the cheap. Paddy's Market was a godsend. I'm so glad I waited until Sydney to buy any souvenirs. I got some clothes, some toys for friends, postcards, etc, and didn't break my wallet doing so--so that was great! I did get suckered into a massage by one of the Chinese guys though and wish I'd been more firm about my position--that cost me a fast $20! I continued on to check out what else was nearby as I headed up Harbour St. (Sydney is very good about having maps of where you are and persuaded me to continue onward) until I came across the Chinese Garden of Friendship.

Turns out you can put a price on friendship. Still stinging from the massage fare, I rejected the garden admission and checked out the Sydney Visitor Information Center and Harbourside instead, where I found out about the Vivid Lights show and fireworks that would be hosted right there at Harbourside this evening. Glad now to see an early show at the opera, I checked the time and had to beat back to the hostel to change into proper opera attendance clothes.

I grabbed McDonalds for lunch (should have been $3 something instead of $5.50! AHH!), ate to the brazen leer of a particularly hungry and large ibis, and hurried back to the hostel to change. It was almost 11:30 a.m. by this time and my show was scheduled for 1 p.m.

Back out the door, I made my way to the free shuttle stop, the green 555 bus, and struck up conversation with my fellow passengers while we waited. A pair of ladies were headed to this conservation type of event and I shared I was going to the opera house for a show. They were as excited as I was! They hopped off the bus which granted me some time to make certain of where I was and get off at the right place, but I didn't need to really study my map as half the bus passengers got up at the Circular Quay.

I headed directly for the Sydney Opera House and had to swallow a squeal when the pretty little thing came into view. I took my pictures and made for the box office only to be told I had to go downstairs to the playhouse. I wanted so vainly to have attended an opera while I was here. "Carmen" was on last month and a rendition of Beethoven's symphony was last week. I tore my hair for missing both. But hey, a modernized version of Shakespeare's beloved work isn't too shabby either! I got downstairs and secured my ticket then went to sit and use the opera house's convenient free WiFi to boast precisely where I was and what I had planned on Facebook, before the theater opened.

I got in somewhat early and found my seat with no problems--looking out on a stage set with a jukebox, double car seat bench, cheap plastic furniture, and a giant Union Jack made of colored plastic crates--until I watched in dumbfounded awe as the theater filled. Who says theater is dead? I think only the last two rows had a few seats left open, otherwise the theater was full! Full!

Henry 4 was a bit surprising because while it's set in a modern time, the language was still Shakespeare. I really had to buckle down and listen in the first ten minutes to get fluent in that old dialect again, but I was rolling with the audience in no time; at once funny and profound, as with most works from the immortal bard. It was a three-and-a-half hour show with a 20 minute intermission, and the time just flew by. The actors did a wonderful job in their roles , though one of the characters was so "British" in her speech, I didn't catch a meaning in any of her garbled speak. "The rascal blurdy blur twixt a cockney gurdy goo" and so on. But yes, it was a nice show and a wonderful way to spend an afternoon!

By the time the show ended around 4:50 p.m. the sun was already on its way down and I still wanted a picture of the opera house and the Harbour Bridge together, so I practically ran around the Royal Botanical Gardens to get the shot, ducking and shooting between pedestrians to beat the shadows as I watched the horizon line climb the skyscrapers. It's a bit dark, but I did get my picture and made a more leisurely way back the way I'd come. I veered off the path to get a few photos of the gardens and was forced to boomerang my way back to the opera house--which I have been unable to leave since I arrived. In encroaching darkness, I saw the full moon rise off the opposite horizon of the sunset and felt a real sense of completeness at so simple a phenomenon. I arrived at the new moon now here at the end of my journey was the full. Never mind that solar eclipse right at the start. I accept your blessings heavens!

I started to make my way back to the bus stop to get back to Harbourside for the show, only to see a mass of people lined up against the railing along the harbor. Now what could they possibly all be here for? Oooh, the Vivid Lights of Sydney! And I paused. Pictures of the harbor and opera house would look way cooler than anything Harbourside would have to offer. And, accepting I would miss the last free bus at 6 p.m., I turned back to find a space along the rapidly filling rail.

I stood around a good half hour until 6 p.m. and watched the light show consume the city skyscrapers, the P&O Cruise ship and the Opera House and I knew I'd made the right decision. I watched the opera house loop (about 10 or 15 minutes) and went inside to locate the Bistro Mozart I'd read about for dinner. Going for the gusto, I ordered lamb rump (which I never eat) and happily had vegetables for a side, and a glass of cabernet sauvignon for a treat. I seriously have dropped more money in Sydney in one day than I have in the last week. I can calm down tomorrow though at the Sydney's Writer's Festival since all of those events are free. The bus is free! I just need to eat eventually.

But wow. One day in SYDNEY and the world's your oyster!

Nuances of Newcastle

DAY 15
Location: Newcastle
Temp: 15 C--Feels like 8 C with wind chill
Weather: Partially cloudy, raining, windy as all get out!
Activities: Newcastle ocean baths, Hunter Street Mall, West Newcastle, Civic Park, Queen's Warf Tower
Accomodation: WakeUp!

I actually did get the 4-bed dorm to myself last night! And, since it was a quiet, restful night, I didn't feel all that rushed to hurry out of the room. Having paid for some net access, I updated a few things before leisurely eating breakfast (back to my meager fruit bar ration), getting ready, packing up, and checking out. I dumped my bag in the day storage and finally walked about this unorthodox YHA. It really is like an old English school, complete with dorms, communal bathrooms and showers, fireplace commons, huge common area with pool table, computer lab, kitchen. All it needs are the classrooms. Even the furniture here screams Ye Olde English pub.

Having my fill, I walked out of the YHA and into the wind. The kind of wind that you can lean into with some force and not fall flat on your face. Mean wind.  Vengeful blustering gales. Good morning to you too, Newcastle!

I made my way to the beach and the ocean was all whitewater; just rabid with froth as the wind whipped the seas to the shore. The cloud I saw roiling in was actually saltspray. But with the sun on my back I pressed on past the empty skate park, the crumbling cliffside, and down to the ocean baths carved especially for this navy rear admiral. I didn't even know they were there and stumbled upon them while watching the furious sea pound its breakers on the rocks below. I was at least twenty feet up from the rocks, but the waves exploded up to where I was standing. I got wet. It was amazing!

My eye on the threatening rainclouds out to sea, I beat a retreat back up the coast and wandered into to town for lunch. I went up and down Hunter Street Mall in search of a bite and passed a place called One Penny Black; this coffee shop with a lot of character. I passed it twice and found I kept coming back to it. Before I could walk in though, the petite woman ahead of me commented about the clothes on the street and I remarked I couldn't afford them and she knew instantly I was foreign and extended a formal greeting. Nice lady, but she made me think of a witch. A nice witch! Is that awful? She was very kind though and we parted on good terms as I doubled back to the One Penny Black for an apple-soaked-in-blueberry danish and a moccha: $10. INSANE!

The nice thing about Hunter Street is the city provides two hours of free WiFi! So I posted several backlogged pictures of my journey to Facebook, checked mail, etc. All the my heart's content, before moving on to find the local Woolworth's for a cheap lunch and to pick up some incidentals that I'd run out of. (Floss and shampoo among them.)

It was a good twenty minute walk to West Newcastle but I walked past Civic Park, the Newcastle Council building, and a bunch of other shops. Hunting for some travel-sized goods (and finding none) I ran into the witch lady again! It's a small Australia indeed. We chatted about sports awhile, surprisingly she's a fan of some American tennis players, before parting again and I walked back to Civic Park to eat yet another bag of Caesar. A sharp whistle on my left announced  the intentions of a hungry local bird as it eyed me and my lunch. It pecked around my feet for some old chips and I watched in a removed bemusement as it hopped beneath my legs and back again. Fearless.

After lunch, I returned to Hunter Street to eat up my free WiFi minutes and this homeless guy came to sit next to me on the bench. He carried a smoke, a guitar and a drink--which I thought was illegal in Australia--drinking in public like that. And it seemed he was already drunk. He played me a song when I asked him about the guitar, something by Neil Diamond, and I played an Irish song for him and then he begged me to give him a kiss. Really? He hadn't kissed a girl in six months. Can't help you there, partner. He was extremely insistent and I took that as my sign to leave--which I promptly did. All righty then, Newcastle, what else you got for me?

I went up and over the street to the Queen's Warf Tower, found it open, and climbed up the 30 meters to get a panoramic bird's eye view of the city. It also took me out of the beating, relentless wind and I had the tower to myself for the entire time I was up there. The whole thing swayed because of the wind though, which was a bit unnerving--and probably the reason why I was the only one there! It served as my refuge for a good long while before the setting sun prompted me to come back down and start walking back to the YHA. The wind swept me right back into a chill as I walked along the harbor and finally back to the YHA.

It was a full day of walking and sights and tonight I catch the late bus to Sydney. The last!

Coffs Harbour harboring my friends

DAY 13
Location: Byron Bay/Coffs Harbour
Temp: 10 C
Weather: Rainy
Activities: Making new friends
Accommodation: Howie Mowie

A bitter cold morning in Byron Bay made for a slow checkout, but I got up early enough to catch the first morning shuttle to town at 8:30 a.m. so I could visit the Travel Bugs conveniently located across from the bus stop!

Happily chewing up the hour or so wait for the bus online, I skipped right back out again to make the 10:40 a.m. bus to Coffs Harbour which would arrive at 2 p.m.

The nasty weather chased us all the way down the coast and it was rainy and cold in Coffs too which didn't bode well for much exploration. Our bus was also late, dumping us off at 2:30, so none of the shuttles were around to get us. And since we were behind schedule, we never stopped for a break to grab lunch or anything, so I was absolutely starving by this point. I went up to the information station on the corner and got bounced by this old Aussie codger who more or less told me to shut up, sit down and wait, the shuttles would be there. Sheesh, easy guy! Too much to ask for a ring just to be sure?

But the shuttles did appear and the guy actually in charge of the hostel was the one who picked me up, drove me to see the local sites, checked me in, and showed me to my room. Talk about service. I dropped my things and teetered over whether to walk the 10 minutes to the Woolworth for food or just eat now because I'd suffered on the bus ride there, my stomach was very unhappy. I snagged the last of my emergency noodle stash and went to the kitchens to prepare a late lunch.

My decision was instantly rewarded. Check this out.

A small group of folks sat jamming around one computer in the kitchen and I announced myself by asking if this was indeed the kitchen. They all replied in the affirmative and I went about cooking up my last saimin. My first snag struck when the stove didn't light--but one of the girls lent me her lighter and I got a fire going! It was apparently her birthday and she wanted to do something exciting, but the weather was misbehaving. The boys suggested she skinny dip in the ocean and she refused as it was cold. I laughed along over my cooking and the group took notice as I brought my bowl over to eat.

"You hungry?" The big New Zealander said. Yes, I was! And he left and came back with sausages, bread, and package of noodles. "I'm leaving tomorrow and it'll all just go to waste. You eat it." I was so touched! I tore into the already cooked sausages until I was full, thanked my benefactor profusely,  and we all got to talking the usual hostel exchange. I now had four new friends--one from New Zealand, one from Japan, and two from France. When I belted out some simple conversational French, they both got so excited!

I suggested we go to the mall for something to do and the idea floated. So not long afterward, we wandered the mall I'd intended to run to right away, but I went in a car with four new friends. We spent about an hour there before returning to play several rounds of card games with a five liter box of wine. I'm happy to report I learned a fun new card game gambling on ace "horses." It was so much fun. We ate carrots, again because our Kiwi was leaving, ordered a pizza, and just had good times all around!

We debated on all going to a club, but the group dispersed somewhat and I hung back to shower and get some sleep.

It proved to be quite a night!

There's gold in them thar dunes

DAY 12
Location: Byron Bay
Temp: 10 C (Brr!)
Weather: Overcast with patches of sun. Would have been much warmer without the breeze.
Activities: Walk to the lighthouse, surfing!
Accommodation: Backpackers Inn

The view opened up on the path to the lighthouse and I was just blown away by the sight. Byron Bay, you should belong to Gold Coast because you are golden.

Well, I technically passed the Gold Coast last night, but there is certainly something magical about Byron Bay.

Maybe it's the perpetual orange and pink blaze over the rugged purple coast of New South Wales, or the seemingly endless rights crumbling in a surfer's dream over the shore, or the easy, relaxed demeanor of its residents, but Byron Bay is a beauty on all counts. I think I can grasp why Australians swear on the cool sands and warm waves of this bay over Brisbane. Having been here for a full day, I really wish I could have stayed longer even as my schedule pushes me farther down the coast.

I had a bit of a rough night last night. I was in a 4-bed dorm and quickly made friends with  Tasha, my only roommate for the night and a vegan surfer girl. We both agreed on the merits of going to bed early to get up early and we did just that. But the room we're in is freakin' cold. I actually couldn't fall asleep until I unwound my sleeping bag and lay under it, my sheet, and my blanket to get warm. It was just that cold. (I think our sliding door doesn't seal properly, so all the cold just leaks in. It was terrible, but the fleece sleeping bag saved me.)

I studied this map awhile trying to choose the best route to the lighthouse and ended up taking the longest way around. It was a workout but worth it.

Sleeping in longer than I'd meant, I finally rolled out of bed around 9 a.m. and decided to walk the 3 miles or so to the famous lighthouse over Byron from the hostel. Happily, I had a gone shopping the day before and had a fruit bar, Snickers, and half a baguette left to my name. I ate the fruit bar and packed the rest for the hike because it was going to be a long one!

I came across this sign on the walk and was surprised to see it in two languages:  English and one I assumed to be aboriginal. The declaration above is in fact from the Bundjulung Jugun peoples that populated the space between Port Macquarie and Moreton Bay.

I set out around 10 a.m. and I checked out the little corner mom and pop stores bursting with character all along the way before turning off on the beach path and heading to the hike around the eastern-most point of Australia. I stopped several times because I was caught watching this diagonal surf crumbling in these beautiful, clean cut, perfect rights and the surfers just slicing along the crystal faces. The place was called the Pass. A-freakin-mazing. I wanted to go in right then it looked like so much fun! But I continued on the hilly, roundabout path to the lighthouse.

Behold the easternmost point in Australia. I was a bit too tired to walk the trail down the finger, but it was still neat to see.

The estimated hour it was supposed to take took me about double that as I paused to watch this huge pod of dolphins catching the surf on the eastern side of the horn. There had to be 30+ individuals just hanging out, having fun. I spoke with some locals as I wheezed hello on the crest of a hill and they knew I was American right away. They commended me for walking and I told them they were smart to drive.

Success! The Cape Byron Lighthouse at last!  This is a picture of the lighthouse from the Wategos Beach trail.

But I finally made it to the modest white lighthouse and took in all the surrounding panoramic views of the coast. Marveling at the perpetual sunset on the horizon and the dolphin pod on the other end. I wandered into the lighthouse museum and made fast friends with one of the volunteers there who took it upon himself to educate me on some of the more interesting bits of the tower.

I didn't see any whales this time around, there was a massive pod of dolphins playing in the surf. I found this board informative.

He took good care of me and gave me the last ticket for the 12:15 p.m. tour of the lighthouse light. So, 25 minutes later, I was standing at the top of the lighthouse and snapping more pictures of the fantastic view at a new vantage. It was gorgeous! I chatted a bit with my tour guide also, who nailed that I was American from the start, I keep wondering what gives it away, my "accent" or my dress. We talked about the dolphins and he enquired where I was from, always a fun exchange.

If you watch very carefully, you can see dolphins jumping out the backs of these waves.

I headed back down the winding path and paused at one overlook to eat my leftover baguette, but really didn't need to as I stopped at the Pass Cafe for some lunch around 1:45 p.m. I decided to indulge for this lunch because one, I was hungry, and two, this place was just neat! The laid back atmosphere, wooden deck overlook, I'd seen it on the way out and already knew I wanted to stop there for a bite.

I'd guzzled most of my moccha waiting for my cheeseburger-without-cheese-please to come out. It was delicious treat after I'd starved myself for so long. Budget be damned, I'm at the Pass!

I ordered a cheeseburger without cheese, simply because it was the cheapest meat item on the menu, and got weird looks for it. "You want a cheeseburger...without the cheese? So...you just want...the meat...and the bun?" Even the cook teased me about it. But whatever, I had chips and ketchup (er, tomato sauce...) so it was all good! I also ordered a moccha (correct spelling) which was delicious and just the pick-me-up I needed. It still made for an expensive lunch though. To my surprise, everyone I'd spoken to at the lighthouse, the volunteer, guide, and another guy, all showed up to eat there for lunch! I waved hello and they grinned and waved back. 

As I got my order, a cheeky magpie flew down on the deck rail, three feet from me I kid you not, and eyed my fries. Beautiful bird. We watched each other very closely, but with very different motives. My lighthouse volunteer friend leaned in and asked "Making friends with the wildlife already?" I sure was. The magpie eventually gave up, but not until my plate was clean. I wished a good lunch to my lighthouse friends and headed back along the beach where I stopped next to an Aussie man watching the surf.

LOOK! Look at those clean, even sets! There was a surfer on each rivet at one point, just gliding along. And the 'sunset' colors may not be so apparent here, but I swear, Byron Bay was this perpetual sunset place! I wanted to get out in that.

We chatted a good twenty minutes me and this surfer. He told me all about the area and how he'd surfed it for thirty years. I wanted to get out there too and he encouraged me to go! He was wondering if he should go back in himself as the waves had cleaned up that afternoon. My clock was reading 2:30 p.m. or so, still plenty of time to shred, but he said the little voice was telling him to go home and I advised him to listen to it, I always regretted it when I didn't.

I continued on along the beach, watching the cut-glass surf, the surfers, and just the people lounging about on the headland watching. The wave symphony went from the gentle applause of rain to the roar of commercial jets and back again as it ran up the beach. The soft pastels, the caress of the breeze. And the magic set in. Wow, I can't even describe it, this vibe. Peace, maybe.

Another shot of those gorgeous waves coming in from the Wategos Beach trail.

I passed my hostel on the way back but navigated to it in short order and teetered on the edge of whether or not to rent a board myself. The air was cold. The water had to be colder. But as I watched the newbies struggle and flop, my mind made up, and I raced back to the hostel to rent a board. I was back on the beach in my gear and board under my arm in a flash.

The surfing rules in Waikiki are--there are none. The constant influx of tourists who have no idea what they're doing choke the beaches and the instructors are no better. I was all too happy to be educated by this board board before starting a surfin' turf war with the locals.

It was 3:30 p.m. by this time and the sun was already setting. Studying the waves a bit, I chose a spot that was relatively free of surfers but still had a decent break and I went in. To my surprise, the water was warm. Warmer than the air anyway which really threw me, but I plunged in and hopped on my board. The first thing I noticed was the board was shorter than my longboard back home. My 8'8" supported my whole body and then some, this 7' was a shock as my feet dangled for shark bait, but I actually managed to catch and ride my first attempt, though it was short-lived. I tried for a few more and found myself either sliding off because of the poor wax job or falling out the back as the wave diminished. That, and the freakin' current was unreal! I'd be neatly lined up and 10 seconds later, I was thirty feet down the coast, I'm not even kidding.

Tired of fighting the current, I gave up early and trudged up the beach to sit in full melancholy over the less than stellar experience. And while I sat miserable, dripping in the cold, I turned my eyes to where the rest of the surfers were by the  hooked mast of The Wreck, an actual sunken boat maybe 50 yards out from shore, and hesitated. Pros mixed with newbies in two distinct sets, an inner and an outer. I paid $16 for 3 hours on this board, I'll be damned if I didn't catch a decent wave in Oz. Maybe I could try the inner set. So I set out again.

This time was MUCH better. The current was still rough and hauled me down the beach, but I could walk on the bottom here and I fought to get myself in position. Here they came. These sweeping mountains of liquid majesty. I jumped on my board and shoved through the first set because I wasn't quite in the right spot to launch, but as that set diminished and I paddled out, the next one came.

I spun my board back to shore as this monster came bearing down on me and I paddled, paddled, paddled, felt the lift, seized the rails, popped up and sliced all in once motion. It was the most beautiful, most awesome moment ever as I shredded the face of this curling wave as tall as I was like some seasoned surfer on this 7' board; cutting back, sliding down to a bottom turn again, and falling out the back when the wave closed out.

It. Was. AWESOME.

I caught a few more until  the fierce current coupled with my exhaustion and I was done. I had to have been out a good hour and a half, at least an hour in the water--I always lose track. I caught one last wave, mostly white wash, to save myself the paddle in and made it to the beach. The air was absolutely frigid coming out of the water and I hopped back to the hostel for a very hot shower, feeling accomplished and more than a bit buzzed by the experience. Might have graduated to a new level there. 

I took one last jaunt to secure some dinner because saimin just wasn't going to cut it tonight, so I hiked to Woolworth's for a bag of salad, I hovered over the chicken, but it was just too much to eat in one sitting. And I didn't plan to stay overnight, no way I was spending money on expensive food I would not eat. I settled for the salad to tide me over to tomorrow.

I can readily admit I'll be sad to leave this little paradise of Byron Bay. I hardly knew you.

Diving Down Under

DAY 3
Location: Great Barrier Reef
Temp: Surface 28 C, Bottom 26 C
Activities: Cruise, diving, snorkeling, general mayhem
Accommodations: Tropic Days

I booked the Down Under Dive Cruise and Dive for a full day of the Great Barrier Reef, and despite paying a little extra while on board, I got it back in drink.

To start, it was another early wake up call, but a Scottish lass "taught" me how to make toast and peanut butter which I tried and actually kept me full most of the morning. I didn't have as much time this morning as I ate and got dressed, got into the shuttle and checked in at Cairns northeastern Reef Terminal. The rep there told me to walk down the wharf (there were a gazillion and of course I picked the wrong one) and I eventually made my way down to the cruise ship, fearful they would leave without me. I asked directions from some local Aussies who pointed me in the right direction and I boarded the boat. They had tea and cookies and I happily consumed each before reporting to the diving room upstairs for a debrief.

The intimate debriefing room on the upper deck of our vessel. My English friend Steve and I were debriefed here on weather, sea forecast, safety, SCUBA review and so on. I was happy for a biscuit and some warm tea while racking my brain on the finer points of diving once more.

 There I met Steve from England who was the only other certified diver on the boat. Our dive master reviewed some basics and boat safety and I elected to have him guide Steve and I through the reef because, knowing me, I would end up on the bottom of the Continental Divide, pop up, and the boat nowhere in sight. It cost an extra $10 on top of the $189, but I figured it was just safer to have him show us around. I originally had one dive scheduled, but decided to go for two, because we were going to hit two locations on the Great Barrier Reef.

The abandoned stern gave me a nice opportunity to take a few shots of a glorious morning in Oz as we departed the mainland. 

After debriefing, I snuck out to the abandoned bow and loved having the rushing sea to myself a bit before returning to get suited up for the dive. I was a smidge nervous because it's been years since I've dived, but it did come back to me more or less as I got under. "How do we--oh yeah, ok." Of course, everything was in meters, but our dive master kept an eye on all the logistics--depth, location, bottom time, decompression--all the fun stuff. I just got to explore.

A shot to starboard of the mainland as we raced by.

The first area we dove was Saxon Reef, where we reached a depth of 14 meters, bottom time 40 min., and we had to safety stop after having gone so deep. True to form, I still have issues equalizing my left ear and struggled at the deeper areas, but we did see a couple turtles, trigger fish, sea cucumbers, clown fish and so on. Honestly, I wasn't that impressed with the first dive. I've seen it all before, right down to the fish and turtles.

We did a decompression stop towards the end of the first dive and I snorkeled a bit, but struggled in the chop. The waves don't bother me, but it makes it awful difficult to breathe with them crashing over your snorkel.

The crew broke for lunch and again, I ate almost everything I possibly could including macaroni salad, potato salad, and prawns. I also snagged another refill of tea to warm up on the bow as I was cold outside of my wetsuit. Some folks were seasick and I felt bad for them. Some were even airlifted off the boat, it was that bad, while meanwhile I rode the waves like a roller coaster. I and the rest aboard, however, had to endure some violent heaving. So violent I crashed into a big guy and struggled to stand again stammering apologies, and some gal crashed into me. Also, it is very hard to pee in zero G.

My dive master advised I do some snorkeling over the North Hastings reef before my second dive as the crew tossed in some leftover lunch to attract the fish. I saw this freakin' huge barracuda as long a I was as I floated on the surface. The bugger eyeballed me as it glided toward me and I was like "I'm cool, you're cool, we're cool, man," as it swam right under me. The teeth on that thing. But I didn't panic, if it bit me there was nothing I could do. I did keep my hands over my back though to protect my fingers. Big ass fish and mean as Tuesday.

I ventured out a little ways and came back in time for my second dive which I enjoyed a little more because the reef was more colorful and schools of fish followed us hoping for a handout.  The current through the coral heads was a little nuts, I would kick and kick and make no headway and I didn't want to damage the coral with my fins. We got to a depth of 9 meters for 45 minutes, no decompression this time, obviously, and headed back up to the surface. Turns out that barracuda bit someone and most of the snorkelers were scrambling in. I'm sad to report I didn't get to see any sharks on my dive. That's 10 now and no sharks--but other swimmers got to see some. I was so sad. That would have really cinched the day.

Up top, I sunned again to warm up with another cup of tea and got another debrief shortly after to officially record the dives and get them signed off by our dive master, Kelvin Law. He was cool, I liked him. I knew they had a free wine and cheese thing for the return trip and I literally sat at the bar, striking up a conversation with these cute guys, while the crew offered top up after top up of wine and muffins. I chatted with Jordan the Canadian and Dan from Boston for most of the trip as we all steadily got happier and more fearless. I got teased/complimented time after time for my "Danger" swimsuit by everyone aboard. Easy conversation starter.

When the boat got to port at 5 p.m., I teetered off with my possessions and managed to get the crew together for a fun group shot before catching up to the boys who I walked with until my shuttle point, still getting teased all the while for my misinterpretation of a high five and forever dubbed a 'Russian spy.' Yeah, yeah.

Last off the boat, the crew eagerly offered to take a photo with me and, having commandeered their bar for the return trip and getting to know each of them, I was all too happy to pose and shaka brah.

So yes, another full day! Most of the buddies I made in the Tropic Days hostel have already left and I'm leaving tomorrow. I have no idea whether I will have Internet connection in the coming days--so don't be surprised if I don't write. I'll try to of course, but I can't promise anything--which is a shame because I still have a lot planned. Wish me luck, ay?

Less than 24 hours

This is the Greyhound Australia bus route. A 90-day, hop on/hop off pass dubbed the "Mini-Traveller" runs $410 for Sydney-Cairns, Cairns-Sydney. You choose one direction and continue on it, no backtracking. For safety reasons, I won't post my itinerary, but I plan to unveil each city as I go along! That's 1600 miles, 48 hours of bus time, in three weeks. Wish me luck! (Picture from Greyhound Australia)

I won't lie, I got some jitters, but the excitement balances the nerves. I leave for Cairns tomorrow at 2:20 p.m.!

My first international flight is proving to be very involved. Where I usually get to check in 24 hours prior and print my boarding pass, I'll actually have to go up to the reservations desk to get my passport verified before I receive my tickets. Never mind customs on the other side. I'm learning all sorts of things. I sincerely hope Guam doesn't have me jump through any hoops as my layover there is only fifty minutes, hardly enough time to stretch my legs and restock food and water before diving in again.

I went out to purchase a roll-up keyboard the other day and save yourself the headache of ever getting one. My words came out looking like th beaus i js ty e to fa. So that little piggy goes back to the market. Other wireless 'hard' keyboards are at $80 a pop, more for bluetooth. It's money I'd sooner drop on a day trip than a keyboard. Oh well, whatever happens, I'll make it work to maintain the blog.

May 9th for all intents and purposes is my lost day in every sense of the term. My magical 6-hour day which will be spent in transit. I'll never get it back. Ah, but I'll get back a day when I fly in the other direction--not so! May 9, 2013 will be gone forever! Which is pretty humbling in a way. Likewise when I fly out of Sydney, I'll have arrived before I've even left and you better believe I'll be saying that to random passersby all over the airport. "Hey, I don't take off from Australia for another two hours, but look, I'm HERE!" I'll wring every minute out of that insanity. I should journal about that feeling. OO! I should sit somewhere and compose a story about the time paradox. I'll be occupying two places in the same stretch of time! *Head spinning* So many options!

Suffice it to say, I will not be posting on the 9th or tomorrow. Or will I? After all, I'll be a day ahead of most of you sneaking around the back hedge like that. Hmm.

Quick shout out to all my friends who got in touch with me these last few days! You've all been really supportive and I appreciate the enthusiasm! Expect some goodies from down under, ey? Don't worry, this boomerang will come back. Probably.

So wish me luck all, I'll see you on the other side!

Itemizing the Items

I've finally moved into the packing stages. The point where you lay everything on your bed and realize you're carrying (or toting) your world on your back for the next 'X' weeks. Step aside Atlas, I got this one.

In effort to pack light, I've laid out four days worth of clothing that should last me a week in the field between washings. Some hostels I've researched have laundry facilities, not all, but for those that don't I have a Tide detergent to do laundry in the sink AND a clothesline. Yes, I'm going to be that odd backpacker somewhere between sun-tan lotioned tourist and light overnight camper.

The seasons in Australia are reversed! So while the northern hemisphere swings into summer, the southern embraces its winter and I've got to pack accordingly. Here are some notes about going to Oz in May:

Yay for May!
-Off season. Flights, accommodations, tour packages are cheaper!
-Ergo, options are open on said accommodations and tour packages and less competition in last minute bookings.
-In-between brutal summer heat waves (Outback, northern territories) and short days in frigid winter chill (Victoria, southern stretch), unless your aim is to ski Australia of course.
-April to November is considered the "Dry" along the tropical coast, i.e. Queensland, and pretty balmy. (But that may well change the farther south I travel.)

Nay in May...
-Forget sharks. Box jellyfish inhabit the coastal waters from October to May. These translucent, I-didn't-see-it-there! buggers can kill you. I've had my share of jelly stings and Hawaii does get its monthly influx of them, but I have no intention of swinging with these stingers. Australia actually enclose portions of their beaches for swimmers. (Fun fact: Box jellyfish stingers are triggered by chemicals on the skin.)

Ellis beach in Queensland enclosed from box jellyfish. Sharks go wherever they like.

-They also have crocs around the northern bit of the coast. Not just in May, but I wanted to note that.
-Inclement weather. Fall can be rainy on the coast. (I just checked the weather the day of my arrival, 72° high and a 50% chance of rain.) I'm hoping it won't affect my outdoor activities too much, God forbid it rains in the rain forest.

It's fall. I'll be dressing in layers where I can manage it. And should the need call for it, I can always purchase another shirt or umbrella on that end.

Other things I'm packing:
- Cards. It's a wonderful icebreaker and a great way to teach or learn new games with other travelers in transit.
- Key chains. To give away to kind or helpful folks because, whether I like it or not, I am a diplomat for my country. My attitude and bearing speak for not only myself, but U.S. as well. A little token might go a long way in making someones day--I'll report back on those stories here.
- Sleeping Bag. For questionable hostel beds and also because I plan to camp on at least one island at the Whitsundays.

Whiteheaven Beach. (Photo by Jose Porras)

- Eye mask and ear plugs. For those times I'll actually need to sleep.
- Journal. "But Rochelle, you're keeping a blog!" And I will document my information, fun, and mishaps, but what lady gives away all her secrets about the cute Aussie saluting with his XXXX? (It's beer, you naughties.)

And with my last load of laundry done, I'm back to packing!

 

Itemizing the itinerary

Three weeks seems like a long time. Waiting for spring break, Christmas, ahem, the weeks leading up to a vacation, but it's really not long at all. It's a wink. I just blinked and I was there and back already. 

I'm finding more and more three weeks just isn't long enough to really explore new territory--much less a country the size of Australia. (And I plan to just hug the coast. No Uluru this time.) To think I'd originally planned to tackle a 1600 mile road trip in two weeks. Doable sure, but at the cost of sprinting through without really getting to know any one place or the people that inhabit them. Now here my three weeks seems to come up short. 

In attempt to add the more specific details of my itinerary such as hostels, local eateries (BBQ roo at one place), and bus times, I have indeed encountered a wrinkle in time. Calculating dates and bus schedules left me with an 11 hour bus ride from Byron Bay to Sydney, missing several cities in-between. 

As a journalist who can appreciate the severity of crushing deadlines, I understand time management is a crucial skill. The problem is, and perhaps always has been, my sense of curiosity. "OOO, what's down this trail?" Then, "OOO, what's over this rock?" And, "OOO, Where does THIS ravine go!?" And suddenly I'm miles away from civilization, in a ditch in a gorge with the sun setting and no idea which way is up. Dingos howling in the background. I want to see it all simply because it's there, which is neither sensible nor plausible. But DUDE it's Australia! The inner turmoil in a nutshell. 

I HAVE to be in Sydney to catch the tail end of the Sydney Writer's Festival May 26. No exceptions. (Plus, I found an Opera House show I'd like to attend that evening; a modernized version of Shakespeare's Henry 4-- because the Beethoven symphony performance is sold out. Also I won't be there in time for that one.)

So my stitch in time will be to eliminate a city in Queensland to grant me an extra day in New South Wales, which still ends up being somewhat of a push. See below.

Yes, the trip outline is actually somewhat far. (Image borrowed from here.)

But how to choose?? I'll have to work what I've fondly referred to as executive ability to make a decisive, don't-look-back decision and pour over bus schedules again. Hopefully I can lock all the details by tomorrow.

Quick, fetch my space-time continuum iron and my ironing board!

Five days and counting

AND a visa?

I leave Wednesday. Yes, Wednesday. Am I ready? Peek into the madness.

I decided to visit Australia maybe a month ago and this was during the time I was actively working four jobs. Morning, noon, and night, I was somewhere doing something with somebody, pausing only to eat and sleep it seemed. I figured I would still have plenty of time to put together an itinerary in the coming days and didn't start fretting until those days raced into weeks. I peeked at Sydney between working hours, perused travel forum boards for tour ideas, glanced at tours, brushed up on lingo, read about bunyips and drop bears--but it wasn't until I started doing the gritty research that I really began to knuckle down.

-Unless you're a New Zealand native, you need a visa to get into Australia. Huh, I didn't know that.
-Flights out of Honolulu don't fly directly to Sydney. They route through Guam to Cairns. Interesting.
-Those flights only go out every Wednesday and Saturday and there is a 50 minute sprint to board the      connecting flight so if, for whatever reason, I miss the connector then I'm trapped in Guam for three days.
-Cairns to Sydney via the Pacific Highway (and beyond) is about 1600 miles long.
-Nearly 48 hours of my time in Australia will be dedicated to strictly moving down the coast.
-Crossing borders between states/provinces requires you dump whatever fresh food stuffs you might be carrying.
-Sydney is hosting a writing festival! (Most of the workshops I foamed at the mouth for are already sold out, unfortunately, but I might swing by some free events yet.)
-Drop bears are as dangerous as they are legendary.

The details of my itinerary get me down to Brisbane. That's only halfway down the east coast. I'm stuck on Brisbane because I'm just overwhelmed on the sheer size of it. There's just so much to see! But my first two weeks or so have been plotted out from hiking the Daintree National Park to snorkeling or diving the Great Barrier Reef; camping on one of the Whitsundays islands to tearing around Fraser Island--I'm pretty freaking excited. But I'm still trying to leave myself some elbow room to be spontaneous should I find rapport with other hostel occupants. Beyond the enriching experience of something new, the point of this trek is to sate that sense of adventure stitching my side and I fully intend to make new friends along the way.

I applied for both my ETA (Electronic Travel Authority) and STEP (Smart Traveler Enrollment Program) today. The ETA application was rather quick and painless and I received a confirmation immediately at a $31 fee which is wonderfully convenient and a load off. Apparently, I won't need a visa stamp. The ETA attaches to my passport number in Australia's immigration database. Neat. I registered with STEP just to stay up to date with the U.S. embassy on any emergencies the country might experience while I'm out there. Hopefully this foresight will nix any such events. 

And while I scrabble to close on the last details of my itinerary, I'm still rushing about trying to finish errands here. I think I'll be working right up to the hour my flight leaves this Wednesday. Yes, Wednesday. Am I ready?

2013: A Life Odyssey

"Best Laid Plans"

If I could frame my last few years in a picture, it would be a young adult slogging through a thick, waist-deep mire plagued by a cloud of mosquitoes; various useful items sinking into the mud from a half-zipped backpack; an expression of suppressed terror for whatever carnivorous creatures lurked in the depths. I would title the picture "Best Laid Plans."

I had them. Oh, how I had them. I'd hire the best construction workers, purchase the sturdiest materials and build a bridge to cross the--I don't have the budget? Okay, Plan B, weave a rope bridge from one bank to the...no anchor points. All right, Plan C, fill the bog with sand until its solid enough to...not enough resources. Right. I'm walking through it then. And while I made progress, each arduous step was a fight with the added bonus of mud flooding my pants and shoes. But I slogged on because it had to get easier at some point--just keep blindly pushing through it and hope for the marsh to thin, the bed to rise, the other shore to appear. I went on like this for years.

And one day I stopped, frustrated. Why was I here? Where was I going? Why did I choose to enter this cesspool? What was so important about the other shore? And while I stood sinking, the morning sun beating on my head, I came to a dehydrated enlightenment. All this hoping was getting me nowhere. All my wishing for the environment to adapt to me was infantile and wholly beyond my capacity to change. But I could change. I could adapt. I chose to come here but I would choose to move beyond.

So as 2013 rolled around, I resolved to make it my year. It answered.

And this is the part I don't think I can put into words, but, this year has conspired to restore my teeth and claws, my fire, my ambition. The old "Just try and stop me" adage returned like a punch to the stomach--other people's stomachs. I set goals at the beginning of the year and have fiercely pursued them. Everything from work to exercise to recreation to novel writing went with clear end goals on a list and I twisted and kicked and snarled to free myself from the mire I'd trapped myself in to reach them. I would make progress on my own terms. I would seize the reins and steer my course, surmount obstacles or bend to pass through them. This year was mine.

And 2013 has answered as I threw myself out there with reckless abandon. Suddenly, all my part-time jobs were trying to schedule over each other, I received an offer to teach ESL, I received an offer to tutor, and I accepted them all. Nose to the grindstone, no holds barred, accepting all opportunities in triple threat offense. The big hitters were crowding back into my corner again. Accomplishment. Satisfaction. Adaptation. Success.

A restored ambition coupled with my acute wanderlust and I decided this would be the year I tackled Europe. I'm still young, I have no commitments, I could get travel under the youth discount. Now is the time.

But as Murphy dictates, the best laid plans got squashed by means beyond my control. And where I would normally have thrown up my hands with a disdainful "SCREW IT! I didn't really want to see Paris's hot nightlife, Italy's summer art festivals, or those gorgeous, dramatic Alps anyway!!" I rebounded before disappointment could even set in, spun a full one-eighty, and set my sights in the opposite direction.

Australia.

Never been. Always wanted to go. In position to do so. I'd have to go solo. Hmm.
"Fine." My teeth gnashed.
"No problem." The fire burned.
"Let's do it." Ambition urged.
That time spent baking in the sun might have sapped a touch of my sanity, but that reckless abandon hasn't dissipated a bit since it seized me in its jaws last December. I'm going. And I'm going to record it here. Just try and stop me.

I hope you'll join me on a trip that will check off a lot of firsts for me--there will doubtless be a lot of hilarious bungles, insightful musings, and educational moments as wont to happen in any journey to Oz.