Fraser Island Adventure Tour

July 6, 2012:
Our Adventure Tours Fraser Island tour guide, Robert, picked up us in a badass 4-wheel drive tour bus. He had the quintessential Aussie accent (to our delight!) like you always see in the films... I guess it's the East Coast that has that accent? Or New South Wales? Or were we in Queensland now? Ah well, the point is we were all ears, possibly fantasizing about taking the tour alone with him... or was that just me? Awkward. We took a ferry on the bus over to the island and started driving along the coast of the island.

The tour bus was designed to drive over sand dunes and through creeks which turned out to be quite useful. Fraser Island is the biggest island in the world made entirely of sand. It has seven separate ecosystems including mangroves (which are just about the coolest thing in my opinion... they are trees that migrate, for god's sake!), subtropical rainforest, woodlands, heaths, sand dunes, etc. Because of the physical geography of the island, there are water tables of fresh water underground that filter back through the sand creating loads of fresh water creeks and lakes that are pure and crystal clear.

Eventually, we made it to Lake McKenzie. In the tour description they had recommended bringing a bathing suit to take a quick dip in the lake. As Canadians, we were undaunted by the fact that in Australia, July is considered mid-winter and wore our bathing suits anyway.

 

It was bloody freezing, but Caitlin and I were the first of all the tour groups to go swimming, stripping down out of our coats and scarves. Britt and Jay eventually followed and essentially we set the trend with several other people coming swimming as well. It reminded us all of the lakes in northern Ontario. No big deal! The silica sand and the really low PH balance of the lake left our skin and hair silky smooth and our jewelry all polished. Some of the other tourists took photos of us swimming (which was a bit weird), but maybe they were as stunned as Robert who asked us how it was. When we answered that it was "refreshing" he asked incredulously if that was Canadian for "****ing freezing". We all grinned and nodded.

Completely changing gears, we spent the time before lunch hiking through the rainforest next to a creek. I am at a loss for words to describe the purity of this place. Despite the obvious marks of tourism, this place seemed so untouched and wild. There were hollow piccabeen palm trees and ferns and jungle vines hanging everywhere. For lunch Jay and Britt ordered prawns but they were shocked to learn that they would be fresh prawns. Both girls were so grossed out because they had to pull the prawns apart themselves... previously they had only had them cooked in pasta. They ended up convincing Robert to take pity on them and he gave them sausages instead; they could not handle the beady little eyes.

 

I had a chance to see my beloved mangrove trees later in the day at Eli Creek. You could see where the roots had torn off from the trees in order to migrate. Our luck, in terms of the weather, finally ran out and we were forced to observe a shipwreck between fat drops of rain. Some people were brave enough to try to take photos. The shipwreck was a Japanese ship or something to that effect and it was haunting.

On the way back to the ferry, we drove along 65 Mile Beach and stopped to see the coloured sands. Luckily the rain let up just long enough for us to get out of the bus and explore for a few minutes. We had had the pleasure of glimpsing several double rainbows before we got there. The minerals in the sand oxidize (rust, basically) to create different colours in the sand. They looked like waterfalls of colour and some of the colour dripped down like paint. I hadn't ever seen anything like it before.

 

The whole island was an amazing experience. When we got back to the hostel in Noosa, we made Kanga burgers with garlic mashed potatoes and broccoli for dinner, got some laundry done, and attempted to watch a DVD with no success. Hoping to sleep in the next for a change, we managed to hold out until 10:30pm before we went to sleep.

The Australia Zoo

July 5, 2012:
BEFORE the crack of dawn (I don't often get to say this, so I'm savouring the moment here), we woke up in the freezing cold, threw some clothes under our pajamas to help us keep warm and drove to Cape Byron for the sunrise. We climbed all the way to the top of the hill, past the lighthouse, and then back down to the point where the ocean was breaking against the waves at the most eastern point in Australia. We were hoping to catch the first glimpses of sunlight that would light the sky anywhere in Oz. Unfortunately, there were loads of clouds.

Instead, there were snatches of sunlight that peeked through the clouds every now and then, and we got to breathe in the salty air of the Pacific Ocean in the dull grey light. So romantic.

Of course, as we walked away, the clouds finally cleared out of the way and made way for a beautiful sunrise. Thankfully, we got to see the sun breaking over the hill as we made our way back to Ray-Jay.

Photo credit to the girls for these ones.

 

The early morning excursion meant I couldn't keep my eyes open for the two hour jaunt to Beerwah, home of Steven Irwin and the Australia Zoo.

 

If you happened to chance across one of my friends and asked them how I feel about animals, I think it's safe to assume that they would unanimously tell you I don't like them. I only had goldfish growing up -- relying on my memory, I'd say I had seven consecutive fish, all named Tina after one of the characters in Barney that I thought looked like me...

...I am not wrong -- and I think this has caused me to be uncomfortable around dogs and cats in other people's houses. I firmly believe that animals belong outside and I don't particularly like to touch them, despite recently discovered evidence to the contrary:

(Don't ask about my outfit. I have no idea. Maybe this photo was taken in an alternate universe.) This aversion to animals is in stark contrast to Brittney, who had wanted to become a vet, and has since decided to go into animal conservation. She adores animals, and I knew that a big part of the attraction to Australia is the wildlife which is so different from anything we have in North America... even for me. All this to say, I thoroughly enjoyed myself at the zoo.

We saw Tassie Devils, dingos, a few crocs (thankfully, not the shoes... that would have been more terrifying), camels and a few koalas before lunch. Then we took our seats for the main attraction: the show. Since Steve Irwin's death, his family has stepped up to fill his shoes. His wife, Terri, was an excellent and engaging speaker. His daughter, Bindi, who just turned 13 is a marketer's dream. She is the Australian version of a Disney girl. She has films (à la MK and Ashley Olsen), books, dolls and a television show as well as something called "Bindi's Bootcamp" which sounds alarming. Robert, who is 8, is beginning to write his own books as well. They were born into animal activism and they are clearly passionate about it. They definitely got me thinking about the impacts of humans on natural habitats and the endangerment of different animals.

 

Before our eyes, Bindi fed an enormous croc named Charlie. I teared up a few times because of the tributes to Steve Irwin, who passed away as the result of a freak accident with a Sting Ray (which are normally not dangerous). The thought of his family continuing his life's work without him really got to me.

After the show, we marvelled at zebras, giraffes, rhinos, tigers, elephants and a mother koala and its baby which made my heart melt it was so adorable. We saw some wicked snakes, some wombats, and I actually patted a red kangaroo which can jump up to 3 metres into the air and can go 60 km/h.

The fur was super soft to touch and I felt all brave and stuff for touching it.... even though I'd gone skydiving only days before.

At the end of our awesome animal adventure we piled back into Ray-Jay and hit the road for Noosa Head. It was our first experience cooking in a hostel kitchen; luckily, we just beat the rush of other backpackers and enjoyed our delicious pasta in the common area before tucking into some Tim Tam's before bed. We were in for another early morning adventure the next day on Fraser Island.



Bushwalking with Cockatoo Paul

July 3, 2012 cnt'd:
My adventures with driving did not elate me as much as my skydiving adventure and despite all my new fearlessness, it made me anxious. I had special difficulty remembering that in addition to driving on the wrong side of the road, all of the indicators and buttons and whatever would be on the opposite side of the steering wheel as well. I had an annoying habit of putting on the windshield wipers everytime I tried to indicate a turn (which is more often than most people would do anyway). This tendency drove my co-pilot, Jay, crazy. She took to smacking me every time I got it wrong, which was extremely effective and left me only with the challenge of navigating my way through roundabout after roundabout and remembering that my rearview mirror was over my left shoulder. (Only!)

Finally, we reached the Arts Factory hostel where we would spend our first night camping out in our van, where we would learn just how special our Jucy really was. We named her Ray-Jay, short for Reject Jucy, based on her many deficiencies. In addition to the replaced battery, we learned it took multiple tries to lock all the doors, the music sometimes played on one side of the van, the A/C didn't reach the back of the vehicle, one of the lights inside the vehicle was out, the propane tank for the barbecue in the back ran out, the sliding door sometimes refused to shut and the DVD player turned black when the music or noise was too loud. We learned this last one while trying to review our DVDs from the jump so that we could laugh about how everyone reacted. Brittney and I each seemed to have a bit of a romantic encounter with our European instructor, which seemed less special when we realized it had happened to both of us.

 

As we walked to the entrance of the hostel, we were accosted by a man with a white and yellow cockatoo perched on his shoulder and a spear in his hand. I am not joking. It was an actual spear. He was the type of guy you would pointedly avert your eyes from on a bus or in an elevator for fear of sparking a conversation, but the girls were drawn in by his beautiful bird who revelled in the attention. Cockatoo Paul, as he called himself, had a buzz cut, except for a small braided rat tail at the back of his head with a single feather from his bird affixed to the end. He was the definition of "bogan" and he insisted that we join him on a "bushwalk". We excused ourselves because we had to sign in to the hostel, but he had the receptionistdo a speed check-in before he escorted us to the starting point.

The group he had assembled reflected the culture of Byron Bay. We had the impression that the hostel was a hippy commune. More than one of the other bushwalkers was openly getting high. Shops in Byron Bay sold marijuana and other herbs. (I still don't know if this was legal). Dreadlocks were everywhere. We felt a little out of place. Cockatoo Paul taught us about Aboriginal traditional plant uses. We found plants that stored water, painted our hands with natural mineral sunblock, ate edible flowers, found a plant that stops hemorraghing, one that stops nipples from chapping (his words, not mine) which also serves as a excellent source of iron, and learned to throw his spear. He taught us which plants were best for building shelter and he made a basket for us out of a palm frond.

The most memorable lesson I learned on this adventure was how to find the best tree bark to use for toilet paper. Unsolicited, he shared with us that as a poor kid growing up, his family couldn't afford toilet paper and that he would often use newspaper. We found a tree with the proper bark -- which could also be used for starting fires, constructing mattresses -- and he showed us the technique for making the bark soft enough to use for toilet paper.... mainly repeated scrunching and unscrunching of the bark until the fibres were weakened. This one demonstration has saved me in many situations involving public toilets throughout my travels. Notably, I discussed my experience at the hockey arena in Lyon. I was recently saved at the Gentlemen of the Road tour in Simcoe, ON by using the scrunching technique on the toilet paper roll. Essentially, Cockatoo Paul reminded me that travelling is about being resourceful.

At the end of our bushwalk, he asked for donations for the Kangaroo Creek Survival Camp which trains young Aboriginal children in their own traditions, essentially to provide them with opportunities to work in tourism, but also to promote the longevity of those traditions. We finished off the night with a quick trip for some groceries (highlighted by someone offering to open my beer for me after, presumably, watching me struggle to open it on a tree and on a rock... not so resourceful after all), tailgating for dinner and coming to the conclusion that after a few days living out of a van sporting wild hair and  some bulky hiking books that I might as well embrace my inner bogan, too.

Skydive the Beach, Byron Bay

July 3, 2012:

The next morning we had a sort of karmic revenge on our noisy, durg-addled (probably) roommates when we got up at 7:15am and weren't able to sneak out as quietly as we'd hoped. We were on the road to Byron Bay, the scenic destination where we had agreed to go Skydiving.

Mentally preparing to boldly go where lots of insane people have gone before is a bit like not thinking about it until you're up in the plane with your legs dangling out and trying to remember the instructions.

But honestly, I'm not big on getting nervous about things before they happen. Worrying about everything before it happens is my sister, Andrea's, favourite pastime. So instead, I watched the scenery as we approached and attempted to help navigate (which requires more concentration than you might think, considering we were driving on the left side of the road).

Brittney and Caitlin, who were most anxious about doing it, decided to go first to get it over with.

Brittney and I would have the skydiving instructor who apparently thrived on joking with people who seemed nervous. He told Brittney things like he shouldn't have had those beers the night before and that he always forgot the order of how to do up the harnesses. I think he was worried that I would be as scared as Brittney because he opted to tell me that in his life he'd done more than 7000 jumps and how he had won awards or something. But I'm getting ahead of myself. All of his "reassuring" comments to Brittney resulted in this:

Meanwhile, I was attempting to pay for my jump in the office with no success. I knew I had enough credit on my card but it kept getting declined. Jay offered me her phone to call VISA in Canada. I was informed that my card had been deactivated and I could feel the blood draining out of my face (honestly, this was more terrifying to me than my impending jump from approximately 9 million feet). My card number was found on a list of stolen numbers and the man at VISA offered to send me a new card while I was in Oz, but I figured this would be too complicated considering our nomadic trip plan and opted instead to have just large charges put through on it over the phone. The man that worked in the office, Caleb, was really nice and told us all about how much he loved Canadians and how he'd lived in Banff for a while. He also told us that skydiving is safer than driving a car (I later took this at face value... I later proved to be a basketcase while driving the Jucy van on the left side of the road). It was calming to know considering that a 10-year-old was being trusted to pack up the parachutes. Thankfully, his grandfather repacked the one he had been working on when he was out of sight.

Jay and I got harnessed up:

 ...and left for the air field. Jay's instructor sat in the back of the limo with us and asked us questions. He was as fun as his Cookie Monster toque with earflaps, which I assume is his signature look. When we got to the air field, I managed to get into the plane the wrong way, and my instructor who was a little European and, as we decided later, a little suave, commented, "Oh, so you're one of those special ones." I couldn't decide if I was disoriented by his quiet charm or the whole trying not to think too much about what I was about to do. The realization that our pilot was probably our age did nothing to quiet our misgivings.

When our airplane took off, we rose higher and higher and moved out toward the ocean. The plane seemed to be perfectly level with fluffy white clouds and I thought about what it would be like to jump out over the ocean. The view alone was worth the trip.

The only thing I remember about what it was like when he finally attached our harnesses was being afraid that I'd put my goggles on wrong and the warmth of his body. It was like only my senses were working and nothing else. The door opening was a massive rush of wind and it filled me up with the kind of pure terror that causes the adrenaline to shoot straight through your veins, leaving only the sensation of being so excited you could explode.

The free fall seemed to go on forever. It was the greatest feeling - having no sense of which direction was up or down and no control over it either. In reality, it only lasted a few seconds, but that's not the way my memory registered it. It seemed to stretch on forever. I felt the tap on my shoulder and raised my arms and legs into the proper position and this part of the fall was almost as spectacular, considering the view.

 

I couldn't keep my mouth closed the whole time, my hands got pretty cold and I couldn't suppress the urge to smile and it was all wonderful.

When the parachute opened, the gentle drop to the ground was peaceful and beautiful. Falling back to Earth is an amazing sensation. The site where we land is where the ocean meets a river and my instructor told me that he has done jumps all over the world, but he chose to work in Byron Bay because it is one of the most beautiful places to Skydive that he has ever encountered. The whole thing was exhilarating. It made its mark on me, too. I didn't realize until an hour after we'd landed maybe, but I had been cut by my instructor's boot or something on my leg, leaving a thin scratch, but our lack of access to medical supplies and an immediate shower meant that I now have a scar commemorating my jump! It's no wonder that it escaped my notice - I had a high from the adrenaline for the rest of the day.

It was like Felix Felicis had kicked in (the magical Harry Potter potion also known as "Liquid Luck" that makes the drinker lucky for a period of time, during which everything they attempt will be successful) I had the feeling I could do anything I wanted, so I decided to drive Jucy on the wrong side of the road.

Zorbing & meeting our Jucy

July 2, 2012:
The first day of our trip to the East Coast, we caught our flight at the crack of dawn (probably) and arrived in Brisbane. Or "Brizzy", as it is known by locals. We easily located the Jucy van pick-up centre and patiently waited to discover our home for the next two weeks.

We loaded it up, and loaded ourselves in, but it wouldn't start. We each took a turn trying to figure out if we were turning the keys wrong, or what, but it seemed we had chosen a dud. In hindsight, this was the first clue that our Jucy van was special and that we should have demanded a different vehicle, but we were lulled into a false sense of security by the maintenance man who simply replaced our engine (if you want to be technical, it was our battery) or some other insignificant detail (!!!!!). So instead we hit the road for a trip full of promise....

We didn't have far to go for our first activity, called "zorbing". Zorbing is listed as an extreme activity and is on par with bungee jumping by insurance standards. I didn't really know what I was in for and I was not assured by the implied intensity of the "z" and the inherent childishness of the "orbing" sounds, but this video clip was enough to convince me that the experience would be hilarious, simply because the concept is so ridiculous:

It turns out the hilarity was not just in making fun of silly ads about it. You can choose to "zorb" with a harness, or in water, and not wanting to get banged up too badly we opted for the latter. It was, in my not so humble opinion, the right choice. It turns out, zorbing is aptly named.

We paired up, Jay and Brittney went first, Caitlin and I went afterward, not missing the opportunity to flirt with our South African "zorb operator" or whatever job title he happened to have (it went terribly as it happens - we were afraid of some dangling bugs and he judged by our reaction that we'd seen a poisonous snake), until we had to barrel into the centre of the zorb ball in our bathing suits. I'm sure that was an attractive sight.

The only way to really describe the feel of being inside the "zorb" ball as it tumbled down the hill, was being on an unpredictable water slide that could bounce you into the air, and that it was impossible to stay up in. We giggled like small children the whole way and immediately wanted to go again. The manager cut us a deal and we got to go again for a quarter of the price! Oh joy!!!

After all of the afternoon's excitement, we were ready to settle in for the drive to Surfer's Paradise where we walked along the beach at sunset. Jay took loads of beautiful photos of us and Caitlin was asked by some other tourists to be in their photos with them.

It was obvious to us why this beach was so popular in the 1950's and 60's as a tourist destination, leading to the urban skyline, and why it would continue to be so, aside from the great waves. We made our way back to Brisbane to spend the night at a hostel, but they were out of parking spaces for our Jucy van, and we had to stay in a hostel room. The room was freezing all night and I had the pleasure of trying to sleep through the late night binge of a roommate with the munchies, scarfing down chips at a decibel comparable to a jackhammer - and with the same speed and intensity, too.

Overall, our first day went amazingly despite some small hiccoughs and we were nervously trying to prepare ourselves for the big adventure we'd embark on the next day.... skydiving!!

Australian Canada Day

July 1, 2012:
Like Christmas without my family (which I wouldn't experience until later that year during my exchange), Canada Day outside of Canada was going to be strange. Thankfully, I was surrounded by so many Canadians! And I was comforted by the promise of going to a bar which was specifically celebrating Canada Day.

For anyone from outside of Canada, Canada Day marks the signing of our constitution in 1867 when we officially became a federation. It was over a hundred years (1982) until we signed the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms which essentially marked our freedom from the United Kingdom (although the Americans attempted a few times to invade us and take over -- notably the War of 1812 where the Canadians burned down the White House and won the war in large part thanks to our Native allies). But all of this is just Canadian Pride... on with the story!

The "Star Spangled Banner" anthem in the USA is based on this war. Casually.

We decked ourselves out in dollar store tattoos I had gotten before I left and put on our red and white clothing.

 

At Shae's residence room, we had a lot of fun taking photos and singing the national anthem a few times. It was pouring rain so we weren't thrilled with the idea of going downtown so we just went a few stops on the tram to an amazing pizza place. I got an Aussie pizza (ironically) which had regular toppings in addition to ham and egg.

 

Overall, it was a bit disappointing as a Canada Day, but the blame lies with the weather rather than Australia itself. I understand why the Founders didn't sign the constitution in the middle of the Canadian Winter. It was still exciting to spend the day with people from different countries, all celebrating Canada!

 

July 2, 2012:

Our last day in Melbourne before the trip, we booked all of the tours and activities we were planning to do, finished packing and dropped off our extra baggage at Brittney's friends house. We were almost too excited to sleep because in a few hours we'd be leaving on our trip, and a few hours after that we'd be skydiving!!!!!!!!!!

The Great Ocean Road

June 30, 2012:
We woke up at 5am, did a short jog to the tram and missed it while waiting to cross the street. Typical. We sat to wait for the next one which came 15 minutes later, but in the meantime, a strange man came and sat down next to us and told us "If I wasn't awake before, I am now!" Whatever that was supposed to mean. We were too busy conserving our energy to think of a response. It was freezing. The tram ended up arriving at our destination at the time predicted for the original tram we planned to take, so we had plenty of time to find the Bunyip Tours office and about a half hour for some warm drinks and breakfast before we boarded the busses. At which point we waited an additional 30 minutes because a woman had mixed up the times. We were très annoyed that we missed out on potential sleep.

Our tour guide was a super upbeat energetic kind of guy (which kind of grates you when you wake up at the crack of dawn) and it seemed to us that being a tour guide was his life's calling. The "facts" he presented us with, however, started out a bit macabre... he told us first about the West Gate Bridge and how the construction had been slightly botched so when it was almost finished it collapsed and tons of workers died as a result. Next, we learned that Australia has the most dangerous animals on the planet - something like 19 out of 20 of the most deadly species of snake make their home there, for example. Then, he told us about a series of shipwrecks and love stories with unhappy endings. Finally, he told us the death toll that went into the construction of the Great Ocean Road. It was a great way to get us really pumped up and excited first thing in the morning. Not. The tour group was pretty unwilling to participate in any of his questions.

 

We stopped for snacks at a bird sanctuary and, to Caitlin's delight (my horror), we were swarmed by parrots. I was not as delighted. And if you remember my post about my trip to Barcelona (where a pidgeon relieved itself on my jacket in the park), I had good reason.

 

We even saw a kookaburra...



...which are apparently really violent. Does anyone else remember this song from Barney?

We visited a lighthouse in the pouring rain and I had the pleasure of accidentally walking in on two separate women in the portapotties there (they couldn't figure out how to close the doors apparently). Awkward.

Caitlin and I had a blast pretending we were on an African Lion Safari, taking photos of the brush that reminded us of the Lion King. We even insisted that we saw a marking in one of the rocks that looked like Rafiki's drawing of Simba.

Although, I'd be hard pressed to point it out to you now.

 

It looks like Africa right?? Maybe I should go there first before I start making wild generalisations about the brush there.

Finally, we made it to the really gorgeous section of the road, where the Twelve Apostles are located and all that jazz. It was stunning, even in the pouring rain.

 

 

It was a really great way to spend the day, and even better because Caitlin and I got along so well. Travelling with people you don't know very well can be a huge risk, but so far, I had high hopes for our big East Coast adventure.