Tag Archives: Australia

Koalas, Kangaroos, and Emus. Oh my!

The week in Brisbane progressed with an adventure to the Lonepine Koala Sanctuary. While not as big as the Australia Zoo, the one that the Crocodile Hunter, Steve Irwin, made famous, Lonepine has a wide verity of native animals (and is easier to get to from Brisbane and a lot cheaper too.)

Daily shows include a bird of prey show, koala shows, Tasmanian devil and platypus feeding, and sheepdog/sheep shearing demonstration.

Since I was in Brisbane for a couple years, I had a season pass which also gave me a lot of ‘perks’, and made the day even better.

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Waterfalls, Cliff jumping, and the GoPro “Hero”

Down on the Gold Coast, away from the high-rises of Surfers paridise and off the path of public transportation, is Killarney Glen. The area is winding roads and farmland, and we would have probably missed the trail head if not for the line of cars parked hundreds of meters on either side of the local attraction. A swimming hole, known as the Killarney Glen waterfall, is a heart-shaped pool fed by a 6 meter waterfall, lined with spectators on a warm summer Saturday afternoon.


Spectators gathered as timid individuals gathered courage for their leap, while those who frequent the pools tried their hand at flips, all aiming for the deep water. Just off of the “jumping area” is a small grotto, which accumulated jumpers to spectate from a view they achieved from their jump. Families, twenty-somethings, teens on easter break, lined the top of the cliff faces either to watch, or when waved forward from the other side of the canyon, to jump.

I’m afraid of heights. I’ve never been graceful, and feel that standing on something tall makes me ‘kinetic energy’. In high school I would jump with my friends in Colorado into the Arkansas river. Not high, still terrifying. I would swing from our boat into the water in the Bahamas. It took me about 5 minutes of looking out 2 meters below me before I could make the jump. And to this day, as silly as it feels, I hold my nose.

Fastforward, I am standing in a dried up wash-out that juts out over the ‘deep water’, 4-5 meters below me. GoPro strapped to my wrist, though my hands were flat on the rock on either side of me for stability. The girl behind me, no more than 10 years old, comments on my shaking. Her older sister, about 12, wants to help me out by giving me a count down. At first I didn’t notice, since all I could think was ‘S#!t, this is high.’ I try to get in the zone during the second countdown, but psych myself out somewhere between “…3…” and “…2…”. Seconds later I pull myself together, ask her for one last count, and at “…1”, step off the cliff.

 


(Taken with a Nikon and Sigma Wide-angle lens, uploaded with eye-fi.)

I felt the rush of wind then cold water, then the feel of the strap of my GoPro slide over my small wrist. I surface and accept that the camera may have been claimed by the river gods, and briefly remember a youtube video of a GoPro that fell in a river and was found a couple years later. Oh, well.

I swim to the mermaid grotto, and attempt to slide onto the surrounding rocks, helped by a new friend, and mentioned that the camera went the way of the waterfall. The next jumper, a young blond guy was about to swim past when we asked “is there any chance of finding a GoPro over there where I jumped?” “GoPro?” The kid smiled, turned around, and dove. He surfaced seconds later to applause, with my camera in hand.

I tried to find him after to thank him, and couldn’t. He had one green eye, and one blue eye, and was kind enough to fetch a strangers camera. To you sir, if you are reading, THANK YOU!

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(Screenshot from the GoPro of the good samaritan)

Update: added video March 27. Keep an eye out at ~2:30.

New TravelGypSea podcast!

Hey everyone,

Its been way too long since I have had the chance to sit down to write, so I’m going to try something very new… A podcast. I have never done them am excited for this idea, since Im going to get other travelers I know to help with the making of it. This will be a weekly thing, where I pull in old info from past blogs, new info that could potentially be a new blog, and things that I just saw floating around the internet.

This week is Episode 1- General travel, where Natalie and I will be talking about some ideas for an upcoming trip. She has never solo traveled before and wanted some info for how to get started.

Podcast: Travelgypsea › Embed Code — Podbean

travelgypsea.wordpress.com

https://izi.travel/en/app

http://www.myisic.com

https://www.gapyear.com

We’ve All Got Motive

A couple months ago, I was sitting in the top bunk of my hostel, bundled under blankets and half hanging off the bed to chat with my English roommate. We noticed something; we are about the same age, and we are part of a small demographic of backpackers. Not only that, there seemed to be a correlation between age, and why you were traveling. Granted, those age lines could blur, such as having a ‘gap year’ before you start University, or after University, and before grad school or the dreaded real world.  In this episode of CSI: Travel, here are ‘6 Motivators’ that we came up with:

THE JOB SEEKER:

AGE: Late Teens to Late 20’s
REASON FOR TRAVEL: Usually on a Working Holiday trying to get some money together while they travel. Usually “saving” for something, or getting career experience abroad.

THE UNI STUDENT:

AGE: Early to mid 20’s
REASON FOR TRAVEL: Study Abroad, Learning a specific topic, or on a short travel stint between semesters.

ABANDON ALL:

AGE: Early to late 20’s
REASON FOR TRAVEL: Something went south back home (lost job, family member passed away.) On several occasion’s its been the ex caught with the best friend, where they go off to build/rebuild their life without the insignificant other.

PARTNER:

AGE: Mid to late 20’s
REASON FOR TRAVEL: Along for the ride! Significant other/family member/best friend planed the trip and wanted a travel companion.

SOUL SEARCHING:

AGE: All ages
REASON FOR TRAVEL: To discover something. They set out with no goal or destination, but want to explore who they really are, and search for truth (either on a personal or spiritual level.)

GOAL SETTER:

AGE: All ages
REASON FOR TRAVEL: Its been a lifelong dream to [fill in your deepest world travel desire here]. Be it see animals on safari in Africa, climb the Sydney harbour bridge, or learn to make pasta from an Italian chef in Italy, there is a reason you are in the area and a direct goal you are trying to achieve.

I would like to give a shout out to Oli, who spent an afternoon with me bouncing the ideas back and forth.

A month and a few places later…

I am nearing the end of my year visa (with still no option for Americans to extend for another year) and am in the throws of trying to find sure footing for the next step in my journey.

Over the last month I have had an onslaught of adventures, from finding how to live on no money in Brisbane, to having a job that pays for all travel and accommodation, to taking photos of surfers for a magazine/website, to finding my strengths as well as my weaknesses in the grand scheme of backpacking. (You know, like that one jacket I have no room for in my suitcase, but I love it too much to send home… Which may have been a good thing since winter is coming.)

At the moment, I’m in a little town of NSW called Armidale, in an area dubbed “New England”. The cool air and smell of decaying leaves that are the staple of my autumn in Colorado leave me just a little homesick for my rugged Rocky Mountains. The college town with bookshops and coffee shops sprinkled about bring me back to my university days. The people I meet constantly reminding me of the 6 degrees of separation, and how when you travel, you’re never really ‘solo’.

As a preview of the “next step”, I am getting my TEFL certificate (teaching English as a foreign language) and will get back into my niche of teaching and academia, but in a way that will let me work and travel the globe.

Backpackers survival guide: An introduction to the hosteling lifestyle and how to survive.

For your room:

Hostels are notorious for being the cheap and easy way to travel. If you want to spend a few extra bucks, you can have your own room, but if you’re on a budget be prepared to share a room with 3-25 other people. At first it’s a little daunting – sharing a room with a number of complete strangers – but as you backpack, it becomes more of a lifestyle. You meet people from all over the world, with different stories and ways of thinking. You may share a bunk with a kid from another country that offers you a place to stay should you ever be in his hometown, or someone traveling in the same direction as you. (Which, when traveling solo, is a nice change of pace.)

Now comes the part that takes the ‘getting used to’; the noise. If a hostel is known for being party-central and in the hip part of town, the chances of doing your early-to-bed-early-to-rise routine will be more difficult than a hostel that is a few blocks away. Whether it’s the cellphone alarm that goes off for 15 minutes at 5 in the morning, the squeaky bunk bed that groans with every movement, or the ‘frisky’ couple that decide to share a bunk in the multiple bed shared room, you will have noises that you wish didn’t exist. For this I recommend iPods or ear-plugs.

I have only ever had one thing stolen from me in all my experience at hostels; a jean jacket that I hung up to dry – on the “left behind/free” clothes rack in my room. Most of the time you can ask around to backpackers who have been in the hostel a while to see how bad the theft is. For the most part, it’s a good idea to keep your things together, and keep copies of important documents/phone numbers for credit cards in separate bags. If anything is stolen, you will have the important numbers to call into your consulate/bank and have the information to protect yourself from your passport being sold on the black market.

 

SURVIVAL TIP!

When you are staying in a shared dorm, most times people will keep all their stuff together in piles. This helps reduce any confusions about whose stuff is whose and if someone had something that ‘oozed’ over to your pile, its easier to tell it apart.

Also, just remember that when you’re sharing a room, people may not want to see you strutting around in your tighty-whities/teddy. You may want some comfy pajamas that double as lounge clothes.

 

Addition: A lot of hostel rooms have scarce power outlets. Having a power strip that turns one outlet into many will make it possible to charge your phone, computer &/ iPod at the same time.

 

Recommended tool-kit items:

Earplugs/iPod with playlist that you can sleep to.

Comfy pajamas that you don’t mind warring in front of people.

Power strip

 

For the kitchen:

In Hostels, most of the time there is a shared kitchen with your basic kitchen appliances, and a community fridge. The fridge works like that one in your break room at work; lable your food and others know whose it is. For the most part I haven’t had any trouble with food theft until a couple weeks ago, when someone in my big city hostel decided to go on a ‘picking spree’ and in addition to my bread and cracker missing, others had sandwich ham, milk (which is the most common thing ‘stolen’ from community fridges), and a few other things go walk-a-bout from our bags.

This led me to invest in a $5 bag that was created for this environment; a mesh bag with handles and window for labeling, and “o’s” on the zipper to attach a small combination lock that is conveniently attached to the bag. However, there are many styles and sizes you can get these in. If your going to be staying in a large hostel, or in a hostel with food theft problems, I highly recommend these.

Normally though, hostel kitchens are the heart of the backpacking social experience (that is, if the hostel doesn’t have a bar attached.) Here it is common for backpackers to meet up with others and create a community meal, each donating a part of a recipe or volunteering to cook/clean.

 

SURVIVAL TIP!

Do your dishes. Yeah, when you lived at home mum and dad took care of that. So what if your excuse is “I’m not good at it, it’ll take me ages”? Some hostels simply consider it bad karma, while others may keep key deposits. But in a community kitchen, the general rule is ‘if you use it, you wash it’.

 

Recommended Tool-Kit items:

Sharpie

Locking , mesh kitchen storage bag

 

 

For the bathroom:

On the rare occasion you will have ensuite bathrooms, but the majority of the time its large communal bathrooms with a few shower stalls. I would recommend getting a pair of plastic flip-flops/sandals to use as shower shoes, and have a bag that you can dedicate to shower stuff (Soap, shampoo, razors etc.)

 

SURVIVAL TIP!

If you’re at the hostel for a couple days, you can figure out the bathroom traffic, and go for your shower when you don’t have to wait. Usually showering in the morning has less traffic, since most people are either sleeping, or getting ready to check out. Them being busy means you get that favorite stall.

 

Recommended Tool-Kit items:

Canvas bag/reusable shopping bag for ‘shower bag’

Plastic shoes.

Surf, Sand and the Bogan Safari

Leaving my last home and job, I had the plans already made; staying for two weeks on the coast to watch the Quicksilver and Roxy Pros. Bus ticket in hand, My friends mother and one of the kindest people you could ever meet, Mama G, dropped me at the bus station for the next lag of my journey.

Instantly, the bus driver and I start chatting and stories, jokes, and observations on society swap hands. Everything from his desires to go to the rocky mountains, to the quarky ‘Bush Tucker Man’ tv show from the ’90’s. (For those that watch Bear Grylls, This is much better, and HIGHLY recommended as an actual form of survival knowledge if ever lost in the outback.) As we turnd into small towns, we started playing “spot the Bogan”, which is similar to Jeff Foxworthy’s ‘you may be a redneck if’. This ranged from the massive southern cross tatoos, to the car that replaced the anteni with a bent wire coat hanger. Dont believe me?

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When I made it to the coast, the sound of the ocean, the smell of salt, and the powder sand welcomed me back. I arrived on the second day of the competition, which meant that i could wake up SUPER early the next day to watch all the surfers before the crowds.

Now, those who know me know that I suck at surfing. I love the sport, even get up on the board on occasion. A long board. Rarely. (As opposed to my siblings that I watch in awe as they turn circles around me.) I find it such a graceful sport, and the better the surfers the easier it is to get AMAZING shots.

With my first day being the first day of the Roxy pro, the waves looked wonderful in an endless-summer type consistent roll.  Breaking off snapper rocks, the wave would roll and glide sideways to the beach, which makes watching the event a treat.

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(more photos at flickr.com/photos/kikilathrop)

After a couple days of these wonderful breaks, they started to fade, forcing the ASP to call lay days. rather than sit on the beach and work on my sunburn, I spent some time walking around the city, eating at the take-away shop, and meeting people in the hostel.

on a daily check into the ASP site, the message comes up “come on down to snapper rocks for a free Jimmy Buffett concert”. Lets see; I grew up on a boat, surfing sun sand and salt run in my family and veins. I know Jimmy Buffett songs enough to sing Margaritaville in its entirety to the Belgium girl in my room. I grabbed my camera, lenses, and dashed to the bus, arriving in time to sit about 15 ft (5m) from the stage. In addition to Jimmy, Kelly Slater and Stephanie Gilmore got up to do duets with them. Lets just say, if they want to retire from surfing, music would be a viable option for them.

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My luck is amazing! =)

Small town charm

The pub, which has a rich history in the community, is located at the main (and only) intersection in town.
Built in the 1920’s, it had undergone a few renovations because of fires and remodeling, revealing a spooky set-up. A room under the stairs existed since the building was rebuilt after a fire in the 1930’s, with no way in or out. Before tv and automobiles were in the area. During the latest renovation, that room was opened, as it had no way in or out, (it was effectively dead space) and inside was a stool, and a black and white tv.

This, and other stories come from Trappa, the regular to the bar with his ‘spot’ along the counter, and knowledge of everything in the town. With a curly beard, age sunk cheeks, and blind out of his drooping left eye, he points at things around the bar, pictures, carvings, and sketches, and delves into their history. After all, he is the one who did the renovations.

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Within a few weeks of being here, Trapper was sitting at the bar and said how he had two Koalas, a mama and baby, in the trees by his shed. (Just across the a street from the pub.) He called his wife to confirm they were still there. Within 5 minutes, I am fighting the approaching dusk to get as many photos of the koalas I can.

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Another thing that I have been fortunate to learn from trapper was the histories about his father in law, a lieutenant in the royal Australian air force in WWII. The war hero J.H. Dixon had been shot down, not once, but three times, over both land and ocean. The day after telling me of the successful missions (and realizing my weakness for WWII history) he brought in a case of old photographs and memorabilia from Dixon’s flying days.  One of the items was in old map. While folded neatly and tucked into its plastic sleave, it looked like any other map, roads and cities plotted against the yellowing medium. But it wasn’t paper. The map was a silk scarf used by pilots who, if shot down, could use the maps for navigation, and conveniently, warmth.

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The locals have been very generous with offering to show me around. From geological forms, to taking me to get photos of cattle being mustered, to giving me contacts for the quicksilver pro, the people here are as excited to show me the ‘real Australia’ as I am to see it.

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Christmas craziness, and the Plot Twist

Few from the northern hemisphere understand blazing heat over Christmas. (Hears a shout out to all my Florida people!) But here in Australia, it only adds to the tradition of cold beers and food having been cooked the day before Christmas to be chilled for lunch on Christmas day. (As an example, the heat this week reached 42 C, or 107 F. Other parts of the region hit 50 C, or nearly 130 F.)
My Australian family took me in once more, this time for a week of shenanigans.
The heat hit early in the day, making the tent poles that we were assembling to be unbearably hot. Once set up, the trailer/tent that became my accommodation was quite comfortable with the breeze.
With the heat continuing to build, we improvised a pool out of a tarp and an empty trailer, which supplied hours of splashing.
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(Ashlee and I climbing trees)

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(Amy on makeshift karaoke night, that girl has a set of pipes!)

Christmas eve was spent peeping for the big day, with every square inch of the fridge accounted for, hams, seafood, salads and deserts occupied every vacancy.
We stayed up to track Santa and watch Christmas specials, before drifting off for Santa to visit.
Christmas morning everyone was crowded into the small yet comfortable living room for presents and scratch offs , then gathered outside for our amazing Christmas-lunch spread.
Christmas dinner was a blur of awesome shenanigans. At a large family gathering and barbeque, Ashlee and Amy and I indulged in leches (a small gooey fruit) and enjoyed the child like delights of christmas goody bags while laughing along with the jokes of the crazy aunt. (Every family has that one aunt or uncle that provides the entertainment just by showing up. Yeah, Jenny was it.
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(Two crazily cool chicks! My Aussie sisters, Amy and Ashlee.)

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(My Aussie family. The kindest people, whose dysfunctionality made me right at home. I love these people, and will always consider them family.)

Once Christmas was over, it was time to go back to work. Working new years eve was made up for with wondering on down to the rodeo in Goomari once we cut out for the day.
The rough and tumble of the rodeo was welcomed, since I am used to small town rodeos, and I met back up with Ashlee, Amy and crew to enjoy the festivities.
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(Notice rider, then notice the saddle. Ouch!)
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(8 seconds is a long time)

I had to bow out early, not only having to drive home that night, but having to be up early the next morning too.
Over that week, not much had happened besides finding guineafowl chicks around the farm. But by the end of the weekend, I had received word that the family I had been nannying for wouldn’t need me anymore. And back to Wondai I went.
Within a few days I had a job lead with a hotel that I applied to before I started nannying. This hotel isn’t quite ‘Crocodile Dundee’ or ‘Red Dog’, but it has the unmistakeable spirit of ‘small town’. Everyday Cowboy and Trapper will wonder through those thin double doors, and I almost have all the drinks the locals order memorized… After all there’s only a dozen regulars at most.
The town is an intersection. The hotel, and a gas station, with the neighboring buildings, that once housed vendors and shops, standing vacant beside the Anzac memorial (veterans memorial) park. The big bold letters “lest we forget” sit, almost poetically, against the forgotten old buildings.

Stay tuned for more adventures from the hotel, and the ghost stories that accompany them.