The Seagull has landed...

Into the Outback : Part Deux

We're now in Mt Isa, after six days driving 1927km from Brisbane. It's been great fun.

We spent a lovely evening with L and M on Thursday 22nd, after driving "Courage the cowardly dog" - our campervan from Wicked Campers. It's just been sprayed like this (below) and is fun to drive and sleep in.

L showed us his pet lizard which he feeds in his back garden, it appears nearly everytime he opens the back door, and guzzles fruit that L lovingly gives it. L has a beautiful little garden and is obviously proud of it. That night we watched a bit of TV with L and M and prepared mentally for our massive tour of the interior.

On Friday we ate a large breakfast prepared by M, said our goodbyes and hit the main road through to Toowoomba, passing south of Brisbane proper. M slipped me a little present for V's birthday on the 26th, which tickled her pink when she saw it. We agreed to keep in touch with V's distant relatives in Brisbane and will add them to the postcard list for the rest of the trip.

After passing the suburbs and civilisation of the greater Brisbane area, V and I were soon in flat farmland, although the ground was pitifully dry in the ongoing drought in south and east Australia. Passing through Dalby, we were happy with our good progress and made for Chinchilla where we spent the first night in the van in a caravan park for $16 a night.

V was a bit wary of the neighbours, but Aussie caravan parks are full of itinerant and casual workers - some people we've met have been on the road for over 20 years, working all over Australia and living in camps like this one. They're a bit rough around the edges, but most are friendly and keen to get a closer look at our mad van "Courage". Other users include the middle-aged and middle-class caravanners - these specimens are a bit more reluctant to even say hello in some places, but I think our van puts their snobbish and immaculate manners on guard; they're much the same as caravanners back home, whatever your experience is of them. But it's been a success so far, and a few dickhead caravanners won't spoil it - no chance.

Anyway, I'm getting off subject here. Our first days driving took us 335km from our start in downtown Brisbane. Next day, after a hot start then cool end to the night, we were off deep into Queensland's interior, not quite outback country, but remote enough to have V wondering at the scale of this enormous country. We passed through Miles, Roma, then after a re-fuel there we headed due west and on to Charleville. I was bushwhacked when we stopped at 4pm and after a few beers, I slept like a log. We covered 459km that day, 794km in total.

On Sunday 25th, V saw her first kangaroos dart across the road 300m in front of our van, this thrilled her no end, but another encounter with the wildlife at Longreach further up the road the next day brought her back down to earth. We stopped in Blackall (305km, 1061km in total), where we found another one of those outback Aussie pubs that you expect Crocodile Dundee to walk in through the door at anytime.

The barman, called Don, was a great wit and guide to the local area, and his boss was having a beer beside us at the bar. The boss gave us both tinnie coolers with the legend ' "There's more than fuck all in Blackall" : Prince of Wales Hotel, Blackall, Outback Queensland'. But the real star was the pissed up larrikin propping up the corner of the bar with his mullet hairdo and vodka. His English vocabulary consisted of "Fuck", "Cunt" and "Fucking Cunt", but he was funny. He was soon joined by another rough looking bugger, and when they teamed up the manager of the Prince of Wales told V and I that these were the worst two pissheads and troublemakers in Blackall. We left with 12 beers to take back at 4pm, after Don and his boss bought us three rounds of grog. Recommended: Blackall's Prince of Wales Hotel.

That night we had a free barby, laid on by our campsite hosts - gorgeous steaks and lamb chops, a welcome respite from stew in tins and peanut butter sandwiches we've mostly been eating.

A short drive through increasingly outbackish country took us to Longreach, 213km north of Blackall, on Monday 26th, V's birthday (27). V opened her presents and cards from home and we spent the day in the outdoor jacuzzis and pools of our camp site. Kangaroos were hopping about just beside our pretty remote site, and planes were taking off regularly from the nearby airstrip. V lost the plot when she saw a green snake slithering past our deck chairs, later we found out from our neighbours that it was harmless, but were also advised to keep an eye out for the deadly brown snake. We had now covered 1274km.

It was a big jump of 529km to Cloncurry on Tuesday, we were well into the outback now and the traffic had slowed to the occasional road train and 4x4 ute. I fell into our van bed at night after that one, but the heat was hard to sleep through. 1801km in total.

So, today we got to Mt Isa, driving for two hours from 8:30am. It's an odd looking place with it's giant (274m) smokestacks and mines. Isa, as everyone calls it, has 3100 people working it's copper, silver, zinc and lead mines, some of the largest in the world. It's quite hilly but has that frontier feel to it. The frontier feel is heightened by the appearance for the first (V's anyway) sighting of aboriginal people - we're well into the outback here. We covered 126km from Cloncurry to Isa, 1927km in all.

That's it then, tomorrow, after a day chilling out and looking around Isa, we'll enter the Northern Territory, close to where I had to turn back en-route to Alice last month, and in two days we'll hopefully drive into that famous old town.

All stops to Cleveland

Having spent a bit of time now in Brisbane I have to say my initial impression was a bit out - it's a fine city, although it's no Sydney. V and I have strolled along the river, eaten good food in Chinatown and even got out to Victoria Point to see V's distant relatives who live there.

V called 4th cousin L and his wife M a couple of days ago. They offered to put us up, but the hostel we're staying in has calmed down a bit since the weekend, and it's a 5 minute walk to pick up the campervan on Thursday, so we thought it best to stay in the city centre. With that in mind we took the train out from central station, carrying only my little camera bag. It took an hour to head through the Brisbane suburbs and arrive at Cleveland, where L and M were waiting for us on the platform.

Ok, let's get this right - V's granny on her Mum's side was a cousin of L, who used to live in New Zealand. He is a retired schoolteacher who used to teach Maori kids back in NZ. So, although they are pretty distant relatives, V's Mum and our hosts kept up a correspondence over the years and M even visited the UK and met Mum. That's you all confused enough now - onto the rest.

L and M have a beautifully secluded little bungalow near the coast in Victoria Point, south east of Brisbane and close to the Gold Coast. V and I spent the whole day chatting and being fed near to stuffing by this lovely couple. They have grown-up kids and grandkids, but at 79 and 77 years old respectively, L and M are in fantastic shape. Old L even tried to get me on the whisky at 12pm!

The day was spent looking at old family photos from Sussex in the late 1890's. L has rooms full of books and is a very intelligent and charming man, M is the boss though, and the little overweight Jack Russell just farts about and rolls on the seats.

We explained that we had to return to Brisbane that night and L looked a bit put out as they had made a bed and all for us. We felt really guilty until I suggested V and I return and stay the night on Thursday after I pick up the camper. That cheered them up and we're looking forward to returning their hositality by taking them to the pub and/or restaurant Thursday night. L and M's oldest daughter came over with her two teenage kids and dropped us off at Cleveland station, where we shared the train ride back into the city with a couple of tramps and junkies, and three teenagers trying to ply us with booze - which we declined after the wine and beer at V's relatives.

So, I've checked out the campervan people for tomorrow and the saga continues with a late morning trip over the Story Bridge and down to Vic Point. On Friday we will head north up the sunshine coast, perhaps meeting L and M's sons who run a tuna fishing business up there. After that I intend to head west into the bush and finally reach Alice, which is turning into an obsession with me now.

I will take some pictures of L and M and their house on Thursday,  for I know V's family at home are eager to see some photos, and I'll put them on the site as soon as I can.

Sydney - Nimbin - Brisbane

V and I are now in Brisbane. We left Sydney at 7pm on the 14th on an ancient Greyhound bus, even the superannuated driver apologised for the state of the old jalopy and said it was due to be de-commissioned soon. The Greyhound was full of excitable gap-year teeny-boppers, odd looking drifters and a couple of blanket covered old ladies. The view as we drove over Sydney Harbour Bridge at dusk was pretty impressive. Soon we were in darkness and everyone tried to get some sleep in the cramped seats.

Newcastle, Port Macquarie, Ballina - where I snapped this huge prawn, then we pulled in to an already steaming Byron Bay at 9am the next morning. V and I booked two seats on the "Happy Coach", which took us via Minyon Falls to the hippie town of Nimbin. "Fred" was our dreadlocked and very funny guide until the outskirts of Byron, then another hippie took us out to the spectacular views from Minyon. This huge monitor lizard appeared, and being top of the food chain hereabouts (they just love snacking on the local Koalas) strolled his way swaggeringly through the tourists, just asking to be provoked. Our driver (I've forgotten his name) warned us that they do sometimes attack and that their bite is very nasty and poisonous.

By the time the Happy bus arrived in Nimbin village at 2pm V and I were dead on our feet. The heat and humidity was worse than in Sydney. The rest of the Happy bus punters were daytrippers from Byron, many just come out for a cannabis run, buying their weed, and bolting back to Byron. Us two were the only people staying. When the bus had emptied the driver took us the extra 200m out to Granny's Farm hostel. Then he gave us the real lowdown on Nimbin.

Nimbin was a ghost town about 30 years ago, the traditional farmers and small businesses went bust and moved out. The 60's flower generation in Australia then moved en-masse from Sydney and Melbourne to this idyllic little town and brought the spirit of protest and drug use to this backward valley. Since then the town has grown as a major marijuana centre and counter culture mecca. Nowadays, according to our informed driver, the Police in Nimbin are more worried about the prevalence of such hard drugs as crystal meth and heroin - he warned us to keep away from the main street at night. The older, established hippie crowd are scared the hard drugs will scare away the tourists, who are the sole lifeblood of this town, they're worried that Nimbin could revert back to being a ghost town again very soon.

So, we settled into our beautifully tranquil little room, with horses and hills for views and the smell of freshly lit weed constantly in the air. Walking up the town we were asked if we wanted blow every few steps, but most people buy their grass and cakes in the back of the many headshops and cafes. The "museum" does a steady trade, but is worth a visit for the crazy artefacts on show, some definitely dead, but with others it was harder to tell, only an occasional shake of a dusty dreadlock proved they were still in the land of the living.

On the 16th we sunbathed and I turned all our clothes pink in the wash after putting in two new towels we bought with the rest of the dirty kit.

On St. Patrick's day on Sunday we met Gerry and Johnnie from Ireland. Two funny guys who drank a lot of beer, like us, in Nimbin's sole bar. As dusk approached we were having a few stubbies on benches across from the bar when a fight erupted between two very hairy hippies, one beat the shit out of the other until onlookers broke it up. I had felt since arriving that this haven of peace of love had a slightly menacing undercurrent, and here was proof. The multiple CCTV cameras scanning the street indicated to anyone who was security aware that all is not as right as it could be here.

The cops do keep a low profile, and the driver who briefed us said that although they tolerate the street dealing, they'll hammer anyone with more than 1 ounce of hash on them, or anyone who chooses to be a smartarse by being a little too blatant in their smoking of it in public. Sure enough, at 6:30pm two cops moved us on for drinking in public, we had gotten away with having a few sociable outdoors beers as it was Paddy's Day, normally they would have fined us for drinking in public, they hastened to add. The irony was as palpable as the stench of hash smoke billowing from doorways only ten feet away.

But, on the whole Nimbin was worth a visit, just don't expect to get into a serious conversation with any of the seriously stoned hippies who make this place their home. The bar soon fills up with back room philosophers putting the world to rights. Naturally, I kept my work history to myself - "Good Bush: (picture of weed), Bad Bush: (picture of George W himself)"

We left Nimbin yesterday after the owner of the hostel offered to take us in his new campervan to Byron, free of charge as he was going fishing, which was a nice offer. Most Nimbinians are pretty cool, but the green fog of lethargy infects them all, they'll never change the world sat smoking shit and scratching their arses under a tree in a field in northern New South Wales.

The bus to Brisbane was a pleasant trip through fabulously beautiful scenery and the glitzy houses of the Gold Coast. We reached central Brisbane at 4pm and booked into the very erroneously described Bunk Backpackers. The "best of the bunch" boasts the Lonely Planet - sure, if you're an 18 year old bubblehead who can't hold his beer. It's the first hostel I've stayed in that needs security in the bar - that speaks for itself, and the bloody bar stays open until 5am apart from Sundays, when they very kindly pack up the broken glass and speakers at 3am! I'm showing my age here I think.

Every home needs a Jim

V and I leave for Byron Bay by bus tonight, demand is huge for campervans in the Sydney area, and we left our booking too late - nothing was available until the 22nd. We had to cancel our original plan to drive west from Sydney to South Australia, and stay an extra two days at the Manly Guesthouse. But that's alright, because it's the funniest guesthouse in the world.

And the reason I say that? Well, that would be down to Jim, the Rigsby-esque night manager. For the last few nights, V, me, Big Leyton, Ben and Holly - all Brits - have been sat out in Jim's yard, drinking and being entertained by him.

Leyton is from Yorkshire and Ben and Holly are two youngsters from Bury St Edmonds. Three nights ago Ben and Holly made us a Sunday roast. After scoffing this out in the yard there was the problem of the washing up. "I'll do it" says Jim. He then got out of his seat, opened the bin and dropped about eight plates, knifes forks and all, into it. "Fuck it, that's the dishes done mate". Leyton and I were nearly on the floor laughing at that one. Next he found a pair of men's pink y-fronts in one of the guest washing machines - he's had them on and off ever since, flashing his skinny old arse anytime any female dares to sit with him and have a cigarette (no smoking in the Guest House, like all indoor areas in Oz)

V and Ben roughly share a birth date, so we decided last night to have an early birthday/leaving party last night. Holly wanted a fancy dress party so we all agreed. Here are the results, I can't tell you how much I laughed at old Jim, especially when we all went around to the next door car garage to buy cigarettes. He just doesn't give a shit. He also frightened the life out of two young Swedish guys who were cooking in the guest house kitchen - well what would you do if you saw the authority figure in your hotel mince into the kitchen dressed like this with a Dame Edna voice?

But there's another side to our crazy manager, Jim gave V a singlet with Manly Guesthouse on it, she showed me and I said how lucky she was. V told Jim I was jealous, so he dug one out for me too. When he heard we were heading to the bush again, he got out an Aussie army camp bed and gave it to me free, "You can use this to sleep under the trees and look at the stars," he said. There's more to Jim than a slightly pervy and cranky old hostel night manager. He's a really nice guy, and he loved us lot for keeping him company, some of the other guests didn't take to him as he's more than a little abrupt, but underneath he's a big softy. I'm convinced though that some guests smoke out the front in the street rather than run the gauntlet of Jim's comments in the back yard - his lair, he sleeps in a room just off the yard.

So today, Leyton is flying to Hobart in Tasmania. He's coming back to Manly to see Jim after a week. He's been months in New Zealand but reckons Manly with Jim is too good for only one visit. Ben and Holly are staying on until the weekend, then they're following us up to Byron. V and I catch the overnight Greyhound Bus to Byron at 7pm tonight, spend a day there, then two nights in Nimbin - the hippie mecca of Australia. After Nimbin we'll spend time in Brisbane, then on the 22nd it's campervan time - this one's been confirmed - 25 days to see Alice, Coober Pedy and other dusty outback blots on the landscape. We return to Sydney, and probably Manly, on the 16th April for a few days before flying to Auckland.

Anyone reading this who's thinking of visiting Sydney: Go to Manly, and stay at the Manly Guesthouse, it's highly, highly, highly, recommended.

 

Manly Beach

Today has been glorious here in Manly. The beach is packed and the surf's up. This place takes some beating in the beauty stakes. I'll let the pictures talk for themselves.

Just a note on our guesthouse, I've worked out who the night manager Jim reminds me of - he's the Aussie version of Rigsby, from Rising Damp, although he's a lot ruder than poor old Rigsby. Jim likes his grog, and his Sheila has been around seeing him this weekend so he's twice as funny as before.

V and I are waiting for our booking with a campervan company to be confirmed. We should be heading off by 12pm on Monday, and in five weeks will be visiting NSW, South Australia, the Territory again (and hopefully Alice at last), then Queensland and back to Sydney on April 16th.

In the city

We've had a couple of busy days since getting back on track for this epic holiday. Yesterday V and I took the ferry to Circular Quay to meet up with Sydney natives Rob and Mark, two guys I've corresponded with on the net for a year or two now.

We first had a look around the Opera House and checked out Botanic Gardens for a later visit (today). At 5:30pm we met Rob in the Ship Inn pub, across from the Quay. Mark appeared later and we had a grand night catching up on our various travels and scrapes in foreign climes. The rain fell in buckets and we had to finish our beers indoors.

Later that night we took a bus down to Rob's neighbourhood of Newtown for a nice, pukka Italian meal in a real Italian restaurant. The beer and wine had an effect on the wife, who's body is still jet-lagged and out of sync; so we called it a night so she could get a good rest. But, Rob and Mark are two great guys and very hospitable, and the chatter was good. Before we return to Sydney prior to flying to Auckland on April 20th, I will give the blokes a shout again. Cheers guys.

Today, after a solid night's kip, V and I returned on the ferry to visit the fruit bats in Botanic Gardens. This stretch of prime parkland is really worth a visit, nestled in behind Circular Quay and the Opera House. We strolled through paths wreathed in huge spiders' webs, the big hairy brutes were everywhere and V was having a time keeping away from them. The famous fruit bats were asleep in the perches among the trees - swarms of them, they make British bats look like baby sparrows.

A leisurely visit to the NSW Art Gallery at the south end of the park was followed with a stroll up to Sydney's notorious King's Cross area. One look at this dump cleared up any doubt we had about missing out on anything being stuck out in Manly. The sex shops and bars were crawling with the same sort of weirdos you see haunting London's Soho. A quick burger and we jumped back on the train to the Quay then the ferry home.

Tomorrow, if the weather holds, we'll spend the day on Manly beach, where I'll try to get some good photos of this lovely area. Compared to the downtown hostels and guesthouses we are in a quiet little paradise here.

 

Re-united

V is back on tour! I picked her up from the airport early on Tuesday the 6th. I took the fast seacat type ferry at 6:20am from Manly to Circular Quay - it was quite a scary ride with the early morning swells coming into the harbour south of Manly itself.

V's flight was delayed for a couple of hours. I waited and waited for her in arrivals, but Sydney airport has four arrival points - A,B,C and D. A and B are grouped together and you have to scan people arriving from both exits like you were watching a tennis match. My neck was beginning to hurt and I needed the bog pretty badly, I knew that as soon as I went to the toilet the wife would turn up.

Sure enough, V was outside the exit looking for me when I got back. I didn't recognise her with her new short, dark haircut. She was dog-tired after the flight so we went home and chilled out for the day.

That night we hooked up with old Jim, and Leyton. Jim works in the guest house as handyman and unofficial comedian, he likes his grog. Leyton is a big affable guy from Yorkshire. Needless to say the booze flowed until 4am and we wasted a day yesterday recovering.

Today is sunny and warm and V and I are just hanging out enjoying Manly. We are here until Monday and will be exploring the rest of this brilliant city over the next few days. We're meeting Rob, a Sydney native who co-edits the excellent Polos Bastards website, for a beer in the city tonight.

The bad weather is following me

Now, if I was the paranoid type I'd say  that bad weather was following me. All the shots in this post were taken between 11:30pm and midnight last night, looking east from my window in Manly.

Yesterday was hot and sunny, I spent most of the day lazing on Manly Beach watching the surfers and getting tanned. Last night it got cool and the heavens erupted in a thunderstorm just as good as anything in Darwin. I finally managed to photograph lightning - I just kept pressing the shutter until the exposure matched with one of the countless forks of lightning.

As you can see, some were better than others, well the first one is the only really decent one. The pure white ones were when I got a flash right above, but the brightness turned the picture into daylight. Ah well, I'm no photographer, and the storm was great to watch.

I planned on getting plenty of shots of the sunny beach here in Manly, but today is cloudy and the bad weather is to last until Thursday.

V emailed me from Heathrow last night, she should be somewhere over east Europe or the Middle East as I type this.

Sydney Harbour and the Manly Ferry

How about this for a view prior to landing at an international airport? Best I've seen anyway, although Newark in New Jersey runs it close with it's views of Manhattan.

I'm in Manly Beach - cultureshockarama! The flight from Darwin via Brisbane was long, but pleasant enough, I'm exhausted now though. Manly is full to bursting with surfers, travellers and crowds coming to see the Mardi Gras this weekend. This place is absolutely breathtaking, and the ferry ride from Circular Quay out to the extremities of Sydney Harbour, well, I'll let the pictures tell the story.

It's so busy here this weekend I had to get a dorm room for tonight, I've booked a double just off the beach for when V gets here, I can't wait.

Looking to Sydney

This is a view of my hostel's "sun deck" at about 3pm today. It's been pretty much like this since I returned to Darwin. I fly to Brisbane at 1:30am tonight, then onto Sydney for 10am. But the size and ferociousness of the thunderstorm hanging over Darwin all day may cancel my flight. At any rate it's going to be a bit of a shaky flight to start with.

I've been hanging out meeting all sorts of interesting characters. Simon has teamed up with his Dutch mate from Perth, and they laugh a lot at my new mates, who have been knocking back the beer at an alarming rate. These two are Mitch on the left and Andy beside him. Mitch is one of those people you meet from time to time who make a big impression on you. He's the most enthuiastic man on any subject I've ever met, he literally loves life to bits. 

I met him while he was throwing darts by himself, he had heard me talking the night before and thought I was Scottish, being Scottish (of sorts) himself this was a great ice-breaker and I ribbed him for it. Mitch was born in Ayrshire 53 years ago, his folks emigrated to Canada when he was a kid (he still has a strong Canadian accent, with just a hint of Jock and Aussie). He now lives in Brisbane with his wife and is in Darwin to "Photograph and see the place". He's been all over the place, wrestling crocodiles on a farm where they pack them up prior to going to Queensland to be made into handbags. Describing his experience Mitch went loudly through all the moves again - he's great fun.

Andy is a young lad from North Wales, last night he, Mitch and myself went on a bender. Simon and his pal were scared off by the rate at which we were sinking the jugs of TED (Toohey's Extra Dry). We waddled out of the hostel bar at ten looking to get well oiled in Shenannigan's Pub. It was Thursday night but very busy in Mitchell Street. Mitch was a bit wobbly, and when the two bouncers on the Shenannigan's door saw him they wouldn't let us in. Undeterred we headed further down the street. The next place wouldn't let us in because of our flipflops, which the bouncer called "thongs" (What the fuck is that all about?)

Finally we got into a place I can't remember the name of. There was a band in full flow and it was busy. I went looking for the toilet and found the main dance hall. On the stage were about 15 scantily glad glamour models - it was a beauty contest! I raced back and got the boys from the front bar. Mitch was like a man let of prison for the first time. His camera (he just LOVES his photography) was quickly out and Mitch was off shooting pics. One of the bouncers warned him about taking pics and when Mitch tried to sneak another one the big meathead came over mob-handed with his fat-arsed mates. "Here we go" I thought.

The guy was over the top aggressive but he was trying to impress everyone who could see, not least the bimbos on the stage. Mitch was ejected - not physically, and Andy nearly joined him for complaining about the stupidity of it all. But the pea-brain with the muscles got to look good in front of everyone. He was the type of doorman who would last about 10 seconds at a properly dangerous door back home - no messing, I've seen wankers like him before. He's a big fish in a backwater like Darwin - wow.

The night was pretty much ruined after security chucked out the least aggressive man in the whole building. Mitch wasn't worried, he's so positive about everything he sees and does, next day he brushed it aside. After the club he went for a burger that gave him the shits, but still he's in great spirits. He couldn't wait to show me the couple of blurred pictures he managed to get. When I told him, truthfully, that after he'd left the eye candy came out with bikinis on, he wasn't happy!

So, I'm hopefully off and away from miserable old Darwin, this wet season is something else. Mitch is going home to Brisbane on Sunday, he wants V and I to come up and see him and the wife, he's such a nice guy, and infectiously funny, that I'll probably go up and see him after V and I "do" Sydney.

I can't wait to see the wife now, but I'm glad I met a few people recently who have been great company. It's all good.