ANZAC day, an alien and a sunrise

I’m still in Lennox enjoying the beach life. Monday was ANZAC day, a holiday commemorating the sacrifices made by Australian and New Zealand forces during the battle of Gallipoli in the first world war. Aussies and Kiwis celebrate this occasion by playing a gambling game called “two-up” which is illegal 264 days a year.

I joined the chaos out behind the Lennox Head Pub. The action resembled the floor of the New York Stock Exchange with bets flying every which way often between strangers on opposite sides of the ring. And this was the population 7,000 small-town version; I can’t imagine what kind of havoc was going on elsewhere Down Under. I knew Australians had a soft spot for gambling, but it was essentially just legalized, glorified coin flipping. Anyway, I was loving it just as much as everyone else, for the spectacle at least, despite losing three straight coin flips and 15 bucks.

My mate, “Brett,” who has been graciously putting me up along with another wayward American ex-pat, took us both out fishing. Now I’m not really much of an angler, but I felt like a bass master pulling in bream after small bream much to the chagrin of my less fortunate companions. “Brett” ended up getting the catch of the day:

That’s right he landed an alien. Actually it turns out to be the Australian version of a catfish (g’day mate indeed). It’s venomous, like most things in this country, so getting it off the hook was a bit of an adventure.

I had a good chance to explore the beaches in the area which are diverse and spectacular. The surf is supposedly some of the best on the east coast and I gave that another crack with mixed results and some spectacular wipeouts. One thing I discovered about surfing is that it requires a lot of paddling, and like skiing, when done for the first time in a long time (or ever), surfing works muscles that are scarcely used for any other task. So I’ve had to take a bit of a break from the ocean until I can lift my arms again.

To pass the time I went ahead and rented a car and took off for some of the world heritage listed national parks that protect remnant stands of rainforest and contain, as goes without saying, a multitude of birds. I visited a couple cool waterfalls in Nightcap National Park

and the region’s fresh water supply: Rocky Creek Dam.

That night I drove up to the trailhead of Mt. Warning, a rocky peak that exists as a remnant of an ancient volcano. Its height (roughly 3,800 feet) and proximity to Cape Byron, the easternmost point on the Australian mainland, mean that outside of summer it catches the first rays of the rising sun. So after a ‘nap’ I woke up around 4 am to begin my trek to the summit. I had forgotten to bring a flashlight, so I hiked by cell phone light. By the time my battery died the sky was starting to lighten and the thick rainforest canopy had given way to scrubbier, less-dense vegetation. I know it sounds quite an ordeal, but

It was well worth it for this sight alone. Yesterday I was the first person on the Australian continent to see the sun. I was in no particular hurry to run back down and spread the news to the rest of the country that the sun indeed would be up again as expected; the views from the top survey 360 degrees revealing a vast caldera.

Tens of millions of years ago the area was above a hot spot that formed a massive shield volcano of basalt covering nearly 7,000 square kilometers. In an area of high precipitation the easily weathered basalt washed away over the ensuing 20 million years leaving the plug (Mt. Warning) and a caldera rim of more durable rock surrounding the lone spire.

After hiking back down the mountain, this time in daylight, I drove out to the Border Ranges National Park. Part of the park forms the western edge of the caldera and I got to gaze back on my vantage point from the early hours of the morning.

It had been a great day. I had been first to watch the sunrise, seen loads of interesting wildlife and plant-life and even dipped across the border into Queensland. So when I got back to Lennox and heard that Brett was out playing poker with his friends I cancelled plans for foodshowersleep to join in. Of course my luck was surreal.

1st hand: full house
2nd hand: straight on the flop
3rd hand: A K that became two pair on the flop
4th hand: I called an all-in bet from somebody with pocket kings, but caught an ace to win
5th hand: flush on the flop

My rush ended there, but I had all the chips at the end of the night.

One week left in Australia, who knows why I’m taking the time to blog!

Beachworld: the north coast

A couple of low pressure systems off the coast have made conditions pretty wet and windy over the past few days. In fact rain has been a bit of a theme here since my folks arrived and it hasn’t ended with their departure. I had promised them a country of sunshine and arid red soil, yet no matter where we went each day yielded at least some precipitation.

It began in Sydney where they heralded not only heavy rain but a couple major power outages as well that took out most of the metropolis’s inner suburbs for a few hours at a time. This was something that local shop owners through clenched teeth assured us had never happened before. Our arrival Victoria brought much needed rain to the drought-stricken and charred region, which was great for the locals, but did make the views along the Great Ocean Road a bit hazy and damp at times. Yes we did spend a few days in the rainforest where, as the name implies, rain is expected, but even there rain had been scarce for four weeks prior. Everybody thanked us heartily for bringing the downpours that refilled everyone’s water tanks.

I’ve been hopping from beach town to beach town along New South Wales’ northern coast where cold rain and wind can be a bit of a downer for everyone. Not only does it make for bad surf conditions, but it also makes the grass grow meaning people have to spend time mowing when they could be out on the water. Luckily yesterday morning we all caught a sunny break and got to go out to a beach in Yamba. It was supposed to be the most sheltered of all the beaches in the area from the hard southern gale, nevertheless the surf was all a froth with waves as tall as houses and currents and rips going in every direction.

As far as waves go, I’ve never encountered anything in the same ballpark on the east coast of the US. Luckily there weren’t enough surf boards to go around so I got to get tossed around on a body board. Surfing looked like a bit of a Sisyphean task for a beginner. A pod of 15 dolphins swirled about with us in the waves sending hearty fish leaping skyward and hoping to sprout wings.

The Yamba YHA must be the best backpacker accommodation in the country if not the world. While most will nickel and dime you at every opportunity and try to sign you up on expensive third party tours and excursions, the managers take out a free busload of guests to wherever the best surf around is and provide boards and tips all for free. It only opened last October, so the building and all its appliances and equipment are brand new. Most importantly the owners opened it because they’re friendly and excited to show budget travelers a hidden beach gem of the north coast. One of the managers, Shane, does offer a “ten buck tour” that takes guests around to all the local beaches, to a few fresh water pools for some cliff jumping and finally to the wharf to hand feed pelicans and “piranhas.”

I’ve moved just a smidge up the coast to Lennox Head to see some friends, but I’m a bit torn about what to do next. I could take a bus up to Brisbane to see a new city, maybe rent a car there to take further up the coast or inland into the hinterlands and explore a new world heritage area. But I’m tempted to just stick around here where I can surf every day (weather permitting) and get by rather cheaply.

Enter the geriatrics

So my parents turned up along with a couple of friends of theirs for a three week tour around the country lead loosely by myself. Needless to say this marked a severe change in my Oz lifestyle. No more hitchhiking or staying in hostels. No more staying awake past 8 pm (unless to play scrabble). The general activity pace slowed down to glacial. Every departure from a room or arrival at a destination required a triple cross-checking of an essentials list to make sure that in the process of opening and shutting a hotel room or car trunk no wallets, keys, passports, sunglasses, dentures or party members had vanished or hid themselves in someone’s pocket.

Just getting out of the car could sometimes take hours. It was a bit like watching a pot of water boil and I never stuck around to watch it all unfold. It always began with a hearty round of congratulations to the driver for successfully avoiding having an accident despite many close calls, then a reapplication of various sun screens and ointments, followed by a group scavenger hunt for items ranging from car keys just removed from the ignition to the tube of sunscreen that had just been recapped. By the time I had returned from my perusal of the tourist stop’s notable features: a five kilometer bush walk, a few placards to commit to memory, or a Great Barrier Reef dive, somebody would have remembered that the keys were still in the ignition after all. I would then put on an official sounding tour guide tone and formally announce the highlights of the area, usually in the form of a list of bird species, and we would all pile back into and carry on to the next landmark.

I could carry on for the rest of this post about the holiday behavior of the geriatrics, but I’d like to avoid too deeply offending any of my sexagenarian readership. Also the scenery is a bit more photogenic. The upshot of them being along was my food and accommodation budget increased by 1600 percent. This meant luxury goods, such as fruits and vegetables were incorporated into my diet and I got to sleep in a private room for the first time in months. In fact every place we ended up staying was immensely fantastic in one way or another: a guest house at the foot of Australia’s second highest lighthouse, Australia’s oldest single-family owned hotel, a bed and breakfast in the Daintree rainforest to name some of the more noteworthy spots.

A lot of the places we visited were places I had already seen and commented on, such as the Great Ocean Road, Sydney and the Hunter Valley, so I will gloss over those. I did get to enter the Opera House not just to use the toilet, but to actually see a Stravinsky ballet, which was pretty awesome.

Definitely the highlight for me was getting up to Queensland to see the Daintree rainforest and getting to dive on the Great Barrier Reef. Nowhere else in the world is it possible to walk from one UNESCO world heritage area directly into another. I got to see a wild, flightless, endangered bird called a Cassowary right up close.(no I didn't take this picture, but the bird I saw looked just like it and was just as close)

Cassowaries can grow up to six feet tall and have been known to disembowel unsuspecting would-be birdwatchers with their powerful legs and talons earning their species the distinction of being the most dangerous in world among the avian order.

My parents are unique in that they are among a small minority of people willing to go out bird-watching with me. With a winning combination of their car rental abilities and my eye-sight, hearing and intense study of field guides, we added nearly 90 species to my Australian list in just three weeks. My dad even forked over 100 Aussie dollars (a price haggled down from 130) at a Chinatown market in Sydney for a pair of brand-less, high-powered binoculars so he could see some of the honeyeaters and parrots himself.

It ended up being a pretty spectacular three weeks that ended more quickly than any of us could have imagined despite the fact that it was the longest vacation my parents (or any Americans for that matter) have taken in more than forty years. Somehow I convinced them to drop me off on the side of the road in Kempsey so I could hitchhike further north and continue my adventures, while they had to go back south to Sydney to catch 36 hours worth of flights home where three weeks of piled up work, mail and newspapers awaited them. It was an arrangement that did not seem in the least bit fair.

I offered to take my dad’s place and fly home for him so he could be a backpacker for a bit. I reasoned that since our first and last names are the same we could swap plane tickets without anybody catching on. But he pointed out that his patients would probably notice a difference in appearance and somebody would probably sue me for malpractice, which I don't think is covered under my travel insurance.

Anyway I’m making my way north to Byron Bay and then onward to cover a section of personally unexplored coastline reaching southern Queensland before I have to fly home myself.