Quick Note...

Just a quick note to let you know we've added a blog about my parents visit back in April (see April 13th entry).  We'll let you know when the delinquent Vietnam blogs are up.

Western Australia: The way up (May 15 - May 22)

We arrived in Perth and took a cab directly to the Apollo rental center.  There we picked up the baby brother of the Euro tourer camper van we had along the Great Ocean Road.  It was still a Hi-Top (you can stand in it), but it lacked a toilet, shower and the extra room Lindsay had come to expect and love.  Off we went heading north.  We were both so excited to be on the open highway, cruising along with the road trains through the deserts and coastline of Western Australia.  I was so excited, in fact, that I left my credit card back at the rental office.  After the one hour round trip trek back to the office to get the card, we were once again heading north.  We had over 1,600 kilometers to go to reach our final destination of Exmouth, so we figured we would break up the trip with a few areas of interest along the way.

In the late afternoon we pulled into the town of Cervantes, rushed through the general store to pick up a few groceries, and made our way out of town to catch sunset at the Pinnacles.  The Pinnacles are bunch of limestone pillars rising up from an area of sand dunes near the coast.  It's one of the attractions found in all the guidebooks, so we figured we would stop.  We sat on the dunes and enjoyed a beautiful evening before returning to the Cervantes camper van park, having some grub, and hitting the hay.

MAY 16!!! As I awoke in the back of the van to the sounds of kookaburras, I thought about where I was a year ago.  I could remember my last day of freedom well.  I was hanging out in the El Conquistador pool, slurping down mango daiquiris in between my multiple trips down the water slide.  I could remember friends and family everywhere, smiling.  I remember it being warm as I put on my guayabera and walked out on the grass.  I also could remember how beautiful Lindsay looked in her dress as her dad escorted her toward me.  So I got up, walked down to the caravan park office and bought a postcard.  I addressed it to “My Wife,” wrote some lovey dovey things on it and returned to the van.  There I told my still sleepy wife that the postman had just driven up and handed me this post card.  Thank the heavens for Lindsay's never-ending gullibility.  She seemed amazed, grabbed the card out of my hand and then smiled.  The rest of our anniversary was great.  We drove north from Cervantes to the town/national park of Kalbarri.  Along the way we took a few clifftop walks overlooking the Indian Ocean below.  

The Kalbarri caravan park was right across the road from the beach and we got a primo spot.  About an hour before sunset, we drove over to a secluded beach called Chinaman’s Point.  There we took out the camp chairs, my guitar, the chips and onion dip, and parked ourselves facing the pounding surf and the setting sun.  We opened up a nice bottle of wine and talked about what an amazing first year of marriage we had had. I also serenaded her with a few new verses of the song I sang her at our wedding.  You can say what you want about my burping, lack of hygiene, and propensity to scare and/or tease my wife, but as for romantic setting for our first anniversary, I done OK.  Later that evening we went to Finlay's, an outdoor BBQ with campfires, for a fresh fish dinner.

The next morning we were up early for a canoe tour of the Murchison River.  We were dropped off 10K north of town and canoed our way back down.  Halfway though we were treated to an outstanding traditional Aussie brekky. 

Once we were back on terra firma Lindsay worked while I ran a very important errand.  I walked up to the fishing/dive shop and purchased two “Mossie Head Nets,” or mosquito nets that just cover your head.  The flies had been moderately irritating on the river, but we were told they were worse in the National Park.  We drove to the river gorges of the national park, donned our MHNs and took a walk.  At first, I was embarrassed to be wearing such a dorky piece of head gear.  Soon enough I realized that the phrase “function before fashion” never was more appropriate.  I smiled as we casually strolled past the other running, arm-waving visitors to the park who had no respite from the buzzing swarms.  After a walk down to the river, we returned to camp and cooked up a mean pepper steak with onions and capsicum.

The next day was a loooooooong one.  We left Kalbarri and drove 9 hours north, stopping only at the occasional roadhouse for petrol, diet coke, or beef jerky.  Lindsay had a very productive day working in the front seat (thank you Dramamine and caffeine) and I kept myself entertained by listening to the unabridged audio book “Dracula” by Brahm Stoker. 

The last hour of driving was through a desert landscape filled with innumerable towering termite mounds and the occasional wayward emu on the side of the road.  We finally arrived at Exmouth, just before sunset, pooped from the long drive.

The following day was spent exploring the North West Cape around Exmouth with its amazing Cape Range National Park on land and Ningaloo Reef Marine Reserve off shore.  We rented some snorkel gear from the dive shop next door and off we went.  Our first stop was at Turquoise Lagoon, where we experienced a stellar drift snorkel over the pristine reef.  We saw all sorts of coral and fish along with three green turtles munching on the reef.  From there we drove to Oyster Stacks for another nice snorkel. 

After that we drove to the end of the road and took a hike up Yardie Creek, the main supply of fresh water for the entire Cape.  It was a beautiful spot chockers with Euros, the local marsupials also known as wallaroos.  Our day ended on a large hill by the lighthouse with me playing a little guitar and Lindsay having a glass of wine as the sun set over the reef.
  

When we returned to the caravan park, there was a note on our power box to go to the dive shop ASAP.  I walked over and was informed that one of the company's two boats was broken, so our live aboard that we had planned for months in advance wouldn’t be starting until the evening of the 20th.  This would mean we would be missing 3 of the original 11 scheduled dives.  Needless to say, this did not make me very happy.  But what can you do when a boat is broken?  Not much.  In place of the dives, the company offered us a “whalesharking” trip, which left at 7:20am on the 20th rather than 8:30am, the time of our original live aboard trip.  I agreed to the plan and then returned to the van and let my ever calm and understanding wife know that not only was our dive trip truncated, but now we would have to get up an hour earlier. She took it very well.

The next morning came too quickly, but we were at the shop and ready to go by 7:15.  I reminded Lindsay that this, the 20^th, was our actual legal anniversary, but she was too tired to return much affection.  From there we were shuttled down to the beach and taken to the boat via a zodiac.  It was a bright blue cloudless beautiful day and the water was like glass.  Ten minutes after we started out to sea, the spotter planes (they use spotter planes to find the whale sharks and direct the boats to their location) had found us our first shark.  Fifteen minutes later, masks and fins on, sitting on the back of the boat, the call was given.  “Go, go, go!”  We all entered the deep blue water and swam as fast as we could following our guide.  For the first few minutes it was endless blue water in every direction.  Then, off in the distance, an indistinct shape appeared.  A few seconds later and we were face to face with a juvenile male whale shark, the largest species of fish in the sea.  It was AWESOME!  I had seen them once before in Thailand while diving, but for Lindsay, this was her first encounter with these gentle giants.  The shark slowly moved through the water and we swam on the side and behind it.  We swam for about 5 minutes and then stopped to allow the next group to have a turn.  For the next four hours we had about ten swims with four or five different sharks, the largest being 4 meters (13 feet) long.  Most of these were juvenile males, and not nearly their maximum size….12 meters or 39 feet. 

One famous/infamous story about this operation, which is apparently true, is that a few years back, a novice spotter pilot directed a boat to an 18 foot whale shark.  The only problem was that when the boat arrived, they discovered that while it was indeed 18 feet, it was not a whale shark….it was a tiger shark.  Needless to say, they did not go for a swim there that day.

Once the swims were done, we returned to the shelter of the reef and everyone but Lindsay and I took zodiacs back to shore.  We stayed on and found our cozy little two-person cabin below deck.  Once settled, we accompanied Christian, one of the crew members, back to shore to pick up some chum to be used to lure in Teri the tiger shark later that evening.  We landed ashore and then walked up to the fish cleaning station where we got to talking with a few older fisherman just back from a successful day.  So successful were they that they were kind enough to treat us to the freshest blue fin tuna sashimi we have ever had.  They took out the whole fish and started cleaning it.  Then they cut us off a few hunks, which we immediately popped in our mouths.  No wasabi or ginger, but D-licious!  We collected a bucketful of other fish remains and headed back to the boat.  By that time the other six passengers and five crew members had begun to come aboard.  We did the introduction/safety thing and took off for the first dive of the trip…a night dive.

Now, I have over 45 dives under my belt and Lindsay is up to around 30, but starting a dive trip with a night dive is not ideal.  Starting in the day allows you time to work out any kinks while you can still use your vision.  For example, finding out that the seal in your mask is torn down at 25 meters in pitch black water is as far from fun.  For me, that was only the beginning.  Anyway, around 6:30pm we jumped in the water.  I had on my wetsuit, BCD and weight belt, mask, snorkel, and fins.  The weight was the same that I usually use.  I didn’t realize at the time that the wetsuits were thicker and therefore more buoyant, which meant I should have added more weight to my belt.  So down we went into the blackness.  Almost immediately my mask started leaking.  Just a little at first…no big thing.  I cleared it underwater and went on.  Soon I noticed that water was actually dripping from the top, which is very unusual.  But by this time we were twenty or so meters down and the dive masters were already heading off, requiring us to get moving and follow.  We had been split into two groups, but with everyone in their black wetsuits and only having met a few hours earlier, the confusion as to who was who set in early.  I kept a close eye on Lindsay, but almost immediately lost sight of the group leader.  One look at the others faces and I could tell everyone was a bit lost.  We proceeded, and for awhile all was okay.  We saw a very large ray, and woke up at least four giant sleeping turtles.  My mask continued to fill up rapidly with sea water and I had to clear it nearly ever minute or so.  As the dive was getting near an end and we were about to begin our safety stop, my left calf suddenly went into a severe and sudden cramp.  It’s the kind you can feel coming but are powerless to fight off.  As soon as that one hit, my other leg did the same.  So there I was seven meters under the surface, blinded by seawater, barely able to swim, and I noticing I was moving toward the surface faster than I should be.  I tried to adjust.  I tried to swim.  I tried to release the air out of my BCD.  Lindsay tried to grab me and pull me down.  None of it worked and I rose up an up until my head popped out of the ocean.  In retrospect, I was safe.  All of the dives that 99% of people go on are within no decompression limits, which basically means that the odds of getting the bends are very very low and safety stops (a few minutes of hanging out 5 meters below the surface - a means of being very very conservative) are technically optional.  And, my maximum depth was only about 16 meters.  But sitting on the surface in the pitch black night, calves screaming in pain, knowing that I had not done the universal safety stop, I was worried.  I didn’t have enough weight to go down so I found someone else, borrowed a weight, and went back to five meters for a few minutes.  When I resurfaced, I saw that I had drifted quite far and was all alone, floating in the dark, the ship being quite a ways off.  This was not how I had hoped the dive trip would start off.  Over the next fifteen minutes, I slowly made my way back to the boat and got on board.  It was by FAR the worst dive of my life and it took awhile to calm down from.  My calves were still very tight and one of the crew helped me loosen up.  Later that evening, we had a nice steak dinner and strung up the chum off the back of the boat in an effort to get Teri (the tiger shark) to pay a visit.  In the middle of dinner we saw the rope that contained the chum tighten.  Soon we heard splashing at the back of the boat and we all raced to see Teri.  It wasn't Teri, but instead two tawny nurse sharks were toying with the chum.  By about 10:30pm,  we were all tired and Teri hadn't arrived so we hit the hay.  While we were sleeping, however, she showed up, grabbed the chum, and ripped the rope to shreds.

The next day was much better.  Mask replaced, weights added, and calves functional, we jumped back in the water.  We did three dives during the day and saw wonderful fish, coral, sharks, rays, and one person saw a dugong (manatee).  The highlight of the day was at a dive site called “Hole in the wall,” where we swam through fish-filled caves and canyons.  As grandma would say Ma-vah-lous! In the afternoon as we cruised along between dive sites we were visited by a family of humpback whales on their yearly migration.

The food on the boat was good and the crew was even better.  That evening, despite Lindsay’s decision to stay dry, I decided to get back on the horse and go for another night dive.  This time it was great.

The next day, a bit of rough weather moved in.  By mid morning the wind had picked up and the whitecaps were alive.  Our first dive was a bit of an adventure.  Due to the rising swells, we had to time our giant stride off the boat just right to avoid the crashing waves.  Sitting on the surface was a bit challenging, but as soon as we descended into the water, things calmed down and we were in diving paradise.  From the moment we neared the sea floor it was a great dive.  We swam with at least four sharks, a wobbegong, lion fish, huge rays, sea snakes and all sorts of cool critters. 

Upon returning to the surface we found the wind had picked up even more making the climb back on deck a challenge to say the least.  Due to the weather we had to cancel one of our final two dives, but considering the swell, no one was too upset.  Once we were all on board, we took a rocky ride back to the harbor and disembarked.  From there a shuttle brought us back to the caravan park. Exhausted, we opted not to cook and instead went across the street to Pinocchio's for a blue cheese/jalapeno/chorizo pizza and later met up with some of our dive trip buddies for a beer at the Potshot Hotel Pub.  From here on out we would be heading south.

Alice, Craig, Ayers, and Olga (May 9-15)

The flight from Adelaide to Alice effectively demonstrated how barren the Red Center is.  Looking out my window, salt flats and flat red earth seemingly stretched on forever in every direction.  After a monotonous 20 minutes, I stopped looking awhile to read my book, “The Good Soldiers” which if you haven’t read, is a must.  This account of the 2-16 Ranger division in Iraq during The Surge is the most powerful nonfiction book I have ever read.  Soon enough the flight attendant announced that we were making our gradual decent into the Alice Springs area, so I resumed my peering out of the window.  What I saw was to say the least unexpected.  As we descended toward our final destination, green and yellow grasslands stretched as far as the eye could see.  Red Center my ass!  Turns out, about 6 weeks before, the area surrounding Alice experienced significantly higher than usual rainfall, so much so that apparently in the now-dry river we crossed from the airport to town, 3 people drowned in a raging torrent.  It wouldn’t be the last time this place reminded me of Arizona.

Once on the ground, we caught a cab to Britz rental car where after the ever present nickel and diming, we picked up our Toyota Landcruiser 4WD and made our way into town to stock up for the week.  Lindsay sat at a coffee shop working while I went to the Wooly’s for supplies.  Once that was done we just needed a quick stop at a bottle shop before continuing on our way.  Alas, they all appeared to be closed and we realized it was Sunday.  Lindsay stopped in a flower shop to ask if there were any that were open and the owner rudely replied, “nope, its Sunday….I'm sure you can wait until tomorrow.”  Well, no we couldn’t, so we asked the people at the information center and found a drive through bottle shop, got a case of XXXX and a couple bottles of vino and off we went.

Whereas 99% of travelers heading south from Alice take the Stuart Highway on their way to Ayres Rock (Uluru), we had different plans.  We got to the outskirts of town and turned onto the old Ghan Highway, a dirt track leading toward some out of the way Aboriginal communities.  One hundred kilometers of corrugated red dirt road later and we arrived at Oak Valley campground.  When we got there the tiny campground was deserted.  Off in the distance we could see a couple of houses and a truck, but our contact Craig was no where to be seen.  The way we ended up at Oak Valley was on the recommendation of our friends Chris and Sara.  Some time ago they had taken an organized tour and spent a night at Oak Valley, where they met a dude named Craig.  They had such a good time hanging out with him that four months after their initial visit, they returned to the campground for a few days on their own.  Before they returned stateside, we asked they what their favorite experience was in all of their Australian travels and they both, without hesitation, said their time with Craig was it. 

Still alone, we set up the tent, got settled, and before long we could see a truck moving toward us.  Just before it arrived at our campsite, Oak Valley’s two official ambassadors Superman (the Chihuahua) and Tuffy (the Pit mix) came running up looking for some belly rubbing.   Craig got out of the truck and introduced himself as he pulled up some wood and got a fire started. For the next three hours, we just sat around the fire drinking XXXXs and talking about everything from Australian history, to Aboriginal land rights, to our friends Chris and Sara.
 

Here is Oak Valley/Craig's situation.  He is a member of the Arrernte group of Aboriginals (one of several hundred distinct Aboriginal groups) that have lived in this area for tens of thousands of years (most experts date the first arrival of man to the Australian Continent at 50-60K years).  Sometime in the early 20^th century, European ranchers moved in and took the land from Craig’s family.  Also around this time Craig’s Great Grandma, had a light skinned child, courtesy of one of the aforementioned ranchers.  It wasn’t until 1967 that his people were counted in the official Australian census and got the right to vote.  Thirteen years later, with the help of some pro bono attorneys, his family began a 7-year battle to regain a portion of their traditional lands, a fight that they ultimately won.  Since that time they have supported themselves with olive farming, ranching, and tourism.

It was getting late and as the fire was dying the night’s chill moved in.  Craig explained he had some work to do in the morning and suggested we go for a drive and explore his land.   We thanked him and started getting ready for bed.  I was already in the tent when something resembling my wife +30 lbs arrived.  To combat the cold, my wife had (I am totally serious) put on EVERY piece of clothing we brought with us.  Nine layers in total.  I can tell you that it is tough to even thing about a little campfire romance while sleeping next to the Michelin Man.  

Thanks to the layers, we had a very nice rest and awoke with the light from the sunrise filling our tent.  We got up, had a bite to eat in the car (it has a heater) and before long we left the campsite and ventured into the outback.  After passing through a couple of gates, we followed a dirt track into the bush.  The recent rains had brought the grass, and the grass had brought about a billion huge jumping grasshoppers that flew all around the car as we drove.  Soon the road ended in a red rock canyon and we got out to take a walk in the morning sun.  It was a very beautiful place, with the cobalt blue sky above the orange rock outcroppings.  Later we drove back toward the campsite and took a detour up a creek bed to a special place that Craig had told us about.

Apparently about 80 million-300 million years ago, most of Australia was covered by a vast, shallow inland sea.  This sea was filled with all sorts of relatively early life such as mollusks and shellfish.  These critters ended up dying, floating to the bottom of the ocean and getting covered with layer upon layer of silt.  This silt in turn was compressed over time into sandstone, and millions of years later this sandstone became exposed to the outside world.  So as we stood there in the middle of the Australian continent, over 1,500 kilometers from the sea, we were surrounded by the fossilized remains of literally millions of prehistoric ocean dwelling animals.  Every rock for as far as the eye could see contained the telltale spirals and ridges of these creatures.  For those of you that don’t know, Lindsay has a real fascination with some of the ologies: biology, geology, paleontology, and archeology.  While I was impressed, she channeled her inner Mary Leakey and spent the next hour squatting in the midday sun, digging, exploring, and collecting these fossils.  Like a kid in a candy shop.

Once I was able to drag her away from the fossil hill, we returned to camp for lunch and a little nap.  Pretty soon Craig showed up and asked if we wanted to go for a ride for "bush tucker."  So we hopped in his truck and off we went.  He had brought along his gun in case we found a roo for dinner.  We drove down the road for about 300 meters and then he took an abrupt turn off the road and into the bush.  For the next four hours we just drove.  We were looking for bush bananas, roos, wild honey plants, and whatever else we might find, all the while talking about Aboriginal history, culture, and modern issues.  It was GREAT.  We spotted a few roos…but out of range.

We had been driving for about two hours when the flub flub flub of a flat tire brought us to a halt.  We got out, changed it and continued on our way.  About one hour after that, the hisssssssssssssss of a second flat caught our attention and we changed that one too.  So there we were, 10 kilometers from the campsite, driving in the bush (no roads), with no more spares.  Before heading for home, we wandered around a little valley and snacked on wild figs.

The sun was beginning to dip down toward the hills, and the sky was starting to turn the golden yellow of an outback sunset by the time we safely returned to camp.  Craig grabbed some wood to start the wood burning hot showers, while Lindsay and I started our own campfire.  After a nice hot shower, we all sat around the campfire, talking about everything from Aboriginal constellations, the Mad Max movies, and his pet kangaroo, Kanga ("little sister" in his native tongue).  Just before bed, we found out that Craig also dabbles in traditional Aboriginal painting, so we finally found the perfect opportunity to use the wedding gift from Lindsay's grandmother and had a painting commissioned. Afterword Lindsay's layers went back on, and we went to bed.  This time however, Lindsay and I were not alone in the tent.  Yes, it’s true.  I am using this blog to tell the world that on that night out in the middle of the Outback, my wife slept with another man….and not just any man….Superman, the Chihuahua.  That little runt followed us into the tent and refused to leave.  Before long, his feigned shivering melted my wife’s heart and she let him inside her sleeping bag, where he stayed until morning.  Turns out that Chihuahuas do snore.

We got up before sunrise, said goodbye to Craig and the dog,s and left Oak Valley heading west to the highway before turning south toward Uluru.  The drive was flat and straight and for the first time 130km/hr (its max 100 or 110 everywhere else but in the NT).  After 5 hours of driving we checked into the Uluru Resort's campground where Lindsay worked while I took a drive to check out the lay of the land.  I returned to camp, collected my wife and we drove to the sunset viewing parking area for Uluru.  We were early so Lindsay worked in the front seat while I played around with my camera.  Soon enough the sun edged its way toward the horizon and the rock began its colorful transformation.  I will be the first to admit that maybe Uluru is a bit hyped, but I must say the way light plays off the face at sunset is stunning.  Lindsay made me smile when she said that I may not have given her a diamond, but this was the best rock any girl could ask for.  Once the sun was down we returned to camp.  It was another cold evening and as we shivered over our bowls of piping hot canned ravioli before getting into the tent, I could see that Lindsay was sorely missing the camper van life we experienced on the Great Ocean Road.

 The next morning we got up before sunrise and drove to the other side of the rock to watch sunrise.  It was OK, but not quite as impressive as billed.  We then took a nice 10 kilometer walk around the base of the rock while fending off the hoards of flies.  From there we drove 50 kilometers to the Olgas, another set of rock formations in the park.  On our way there, we stumbled upon a herd of wild camels.  We took a very nice hike through the Valley of the Winds before watching the sunset and returning to camp.

Most people who visit Uluru and the Olgas also visit Kings Canyon.  The problem is that it is 3 hours away in the other direction from Alice.  After much deliberation, weighing the pros and cons, Lindsay and I decided (can you decipher the code?) to return to Alice earlier than originally planned and get a hotel where Lindsay could have some dedicated work time.  At this point in the trip, she was doing her best to keep up, but still falling behind. 

The next morning we were up early again and on the road back to Alice by 7:30.  Five hours later we rolled into town.  We checked into the Airport hotel, and Lindsay got set up to work.  I kissed her, told her l loved her, and took off in the Land Cruiser.  I was heading into the East MacDonnell range of mountains (East Macs) to explore the canyons and gorges.  The stops along they way were nice, complete with some examples of Aboriginal art, but not extraordinary.  I felt the same way the following day when I ventured the other direction into the West Macs for a bit of hiking.  Don’t get me wrong, it was all very beautiful, but I guess after living in Arizona for so long and being lucky enough to have experienced places such as Bryce, Zion, Paria, Buckskin, and The Grand Canyon, I guess I am a bit of a canyon snob.  Don’t scorn me for this, we all have our snobberies (Grinders, Dad?).  The highlight of my West Mac day was trying to save a beautiful python that was stupidly hanging out in the middle of the road. 

Back from my trip I picked up Lindsay, we dropped the car off and caught a taxi into town.  From there we went to every art gallery in town looking for a piece to buy. At a place called Boomerang Art we ended up chatting with the owner and an hour later bought a small painting.  Later we dined at an Alice institution called Bojangles, which is like a TGIFridays but locally owned, Outback-themed, and actually very cool. On one plate we sampled emu, roo, camel, buffalo, crocodile, and koala (okay, just kidding about the koala).

The next morning we caught a ride to the airport, I got yelled at by a security lady for no reason, and got on a plane to the only state we hadn’t visited: Western Australia.

Barossa to Adelaide (May 8-9)

We woke up, had a nice egg brekky and checked out of the caravan park before heading to the Barossa Farmer's Market, held every Saturday morning.  It was your typical farmer's market filled with stands selling everything from homemade jams, olive oil, chocolate, sausage, fresh produce, etc.  I bought a sausage stick that tasted exactly like Grandma and Grandpa's smoked sausage that I remember from the farm.  Lindsay, staying true to form, bought a few pieces of chocolate.  From there we left the Barossa Valley and had a nice two hour drive south into Adelaide.  Once in town, we parked the van by the park near downtown and went for a stroll.  It was a beautiful cloudless day, and people were out enjoying the weather.  We soon realized we were hungry so we stopped at a Belgian beer house for burger and a pint or two.  Later we visited the highly recommended (by my Dad) South Australia Museum with its impressive multi-story Aboriginal exhibit.  From there we wandered around the CBD before returning to the van and heading to the caravan park. We had a few hours to clean up and pack before being picked up by mom’s longtime penpal, Sue Medlow, and her husband Graham.  For those that don’t know the story of their connection, it is an impressive one.

Ages ago, when my mom was living in the rural farming town of Pierce, NE (pop 1200), she attended a one-room school house in the corner of a corn field a few miles out of town.  One day, in her fourth or fifth grade year, the teacher pulled out a map and told the kids to pick a location on the map and stick a pin in it.  My mom put hers in some random cattle station in the middle of nowhere Australia.  The children were then instructed to write a letter to a potential pen pal in the area they picked.  My mom wrote a letter, describing who she was and where she lived and sent it off addressed to the mayor of the town with a request to give it to another girl her same age.  Well, it turns out that this random station she sent it to had no mayor, so the letter ended up sitting on the desk of the postmaster responsible for that area.  Conveniently, this postmaster had a daughter roughly my mom’s age.  The rest, as they say, is history.  For the next 40 or so years they sent letters back and forth to the other side of the planet, not once meeting, let alone calling on the phone.  Then about 10 years ago, Sue and her family took a vacation to the States and made their way down to Tucson.  Since then Sue and my mom still write, occasionally call, and have now entered the 21^st century with an email or two.  On their recent month-long trip to Australia, my folks spent some time down in Adelaide visiting Sue and her family.

So the Medlows picked us up and took us on a little tour of coastal Adelaide.  We hung out on the pier and watched the sun go down over the ocean (and not rise over it) for the first time in a long time.  From there we drove over to Craig (the Medlow’s son) and his wife Belinda’s house for a bit of visiting and heaps of food.  Everyone was there: Craig, Belinda, Cameron (the grandbaby who just recently learned to walk), Sue, Graham, Grandma, Annette (the Medlow’s daugher) and Annette’s daughter Taylor.  We had a wonderful evening of catching up, talking about the footy (GO CROWS!), eating good food, and drinking even better wine.  The Rockford Black Shiraz may be the best bottle we have ever tasted.  It is experiences like these that are really the most meaningful part of travel.  After dinner, despite being slightly tipsy, Sue and Graham took us on a drive up in the hills to see the lights of Adelaide before dropping us off at the van.  We did a bit of speed packing and went to bed.

We were up early the next day as a result of our 9AM flight.  We dropped the van off at Apollo rental and the Medlows were kind enough to take us to the airport.  When we arrived they didn’t drop us off they way you would in the States.  Nope.  They parked, came in to the airport, went through security with us and sat down and had a coffee.  Remember when we used to be able to do that?  Our flight was called, thanked these wonderful people for everything, said our goodbyes, and took off toward the Red Center of Australia, Alice Springs.

P.S.  After dropping us off, the entire Medow clan was heading to a Crows game, the loser of which would be in last place in the AFL.  As we flew away, I was genuinely worried for what might happen if the Crows lost.  Once in Alice, we found out the Crows had a monster 4^th quarter and earned the victory.  

Grampians and Barossa (May 3-7)

We drove from Warrnambool for about two or so hours toward the Grampian Mountains.  We had heard from a friend they were worth a trip and frankly we were looking for a change from the coastal scenery.  The winding drive took us through rural pastures and farms.  It was an uneventful drive with me behind the wheel and Lindsay attempting to work in the front seat.  About 2/3 of the way up to our destination, the isolated mountain town Halls Gap, we entered the Grampians National Park.  We drove through some beautiful forests and saw a couple of emus just doing their thing.  Lindsay had a work call planned for  around 2PM, and at 1:45 our phone still had no bars. But luckily ten minutes later we neared Halls Gap, and the bars went quickly from 0 to 1 to 3 and finally 4.  We stopped at an aboriginal cultural center where Lindsay had her teleconference and I watched some kangaroos munch on the grass and a bunch of British schoolkids throw boomerangs.  After that, we stopped into the Halls Gap visitor's center for some info and checked into the camper van park.  Once we had checked, in Lindsay and I wandered around the park to check all the amenities.  What we found you can see below. 

Many of the parks have these large "jumping pillows," which are sort of like balloon-trampoline things primarily for children of course.  Well, us oldies spent the next hour practicing our ninja/ballet/crouching tiger hidden dragon moves on the thing.  Once we had our fill of jumping, I left my wife to work while I took the camper to McKenzie Falls for some photos.  I had a nice time at the falls, but my trip home took twice as long as the trip out because I had to drive about 15 miles per hour.  One thing I nearly learned the hard way is that in Australia, if you drive near dusk or dawn, you take your life in your hands.  This is the time that the critters, especially roos, come out to play.  Despite my ridiculously measured return to town, I still nearly ran over 4 kangaroos.  They really do appear to be dumb animals. 

As I drove into the camper van park, I thought it might be nice to surprise Lindsay by setting up the camper van, turning on the heat, and starting dinner.  I figured I would be accommodating and let her continue working in the camp kitchen while I set out hors d'oeuvres, chopped the veggies, opened the wine, and picked the perfect music for a romantic camper van dinner.  Once that was all done and I was toasty warm, I walked over to the camp kitchen to retrieve my bride.  I walked through the door and found her huddled in the corner, with her computer off.  She took one look at me and exclaimed, “Thank God you are here!  I have been so cold for the last hour I haven’t been able to type, let alone work!”   Needless to say, I felt really guilty for having left her there in the cold.  Still, we had a nice delicious dinner of salmon and garlic shrimp.

The next morning we were up and moving early.  We had a big drive ahead of us, so we decided to start the day off with a hike in the Grampian Mountains.  We drove up the road to the Pinnacles trail head through the morning mist.  By the time we started up through what they call the “Grand Canyon,” a canyon formed by volcanic rock, the mist had turned to a drizzle.  As we crossed some beautiful rocky mountain terrain and up to the top, the drizzle had turned into a downpour.  So ninety minutes later we were standing at the top of the pinnacles, soaking wet, and loving it.  The inclement weather prevented any decent view of the valley below, but we were had a great time anyway.  After briefly getting lost on the way back down, we jumped in the van, and drove into town.  We then headed northwest; we had a long haul to get up to the Barossa valley.  Google maps, which has been remarkably accurate, told us it would take about 7 hours from Halls Gap (aka Helms Deep) to our days destination, Tanunda.  This would be the first opportunity to test out Lindsay’s “Mobile Operation for Patents, Engineering and Science” or MOPES, which interestingly also describes her mood when she has to work.

Ever since we set aside this time off for travel at the end of our time in Townsville, we knew we would have to find a way for Lindsay to continue working on the road.  When planning this trip we purposely built in days for her to work, but we figured that time would still be inadequate.  So we came up with MOPES, which is basically me driving the entire time and Lindsay sitting in the front passenger seat, pillow on her lap, working on her laptop.  The one potential hiccup we considered was Lindsay's woeful lack of tolerance for motion.  In all honesty, the first three scuba dive trips we went on resulted in me being vomited on by said wife.  This situation has been greatly improved with the help of certain pharmaceuticals such as Dramamine and meclazine.  The only drawback to these meds is the resulting drowsiness that comes over Lindsay after taking them.  So in Halls Gap I came up with the solution: the meclachino.  You guessed it, one part meclazine for the motion and one double shot of espresso for the drooping eyelids.  Needless to say it worked like a charm.

The drive up to Barossa was just plain long.  The only highlight was our Bonnie and Clyde moment of lawlessness, which subsequently made me feel very Australian.  In a country founded by criminals, it would be unpatriotic not to bend the rules every now and then.  So, we were about to cross the border from Victoria to South Australia when we saw a sign for mandatory fruit and veggie quarantine.  It clearly stated that ALL fruits and veggies must be disposed of in the provided bin prior to crossing the border.  We stopped and on the side of the road scarfed down two apples and two oranges.  All we had left was half a lemon and a tomato.  Lindsay was about to toss these when I stopped her.  We were having tuna for lunch and I explained how crucial the lemon would be to create a mouthwatering tuna sandwich and how boring it would be without a fresh tomato.  Lindsay initially refused to harbor the two culinary fugitives, but when I explained that the policy probably didn’t count if the veggies didn’t leave the vehicle, she reluctantly went along with my scheme.  In all honesty, she then took the contraband and hid them back in the camper van.  The lemon went in with our toiletries and the tomato was tucked away in a secret compartment under the stove.  I couldn’t stop laughing.  About 5kms across the border, I noticed that Lindsay wasn’t talking to me.  When I asked what was wrong she said she felt very uncomfortable with our "lawbreaking.”  This uncomfortable feeling only worsened when we saw an unmarked vehicle with flashing orange lights make a u-turn and start following us down the road.  Lindsay turned to me and said, “See, here come the fruit police. I'm sure they have fruit-sniffing dogs with them.  They're gonna catch us!”  Well, the vehicle disappeared shortly thereafter so we made it to Bordertown, where we had a wonderful tuna sandwich lunch complete with a delicious sliced tomato.

We arrived in Tanunda (Barrossa valley) after dark, checked into the caravan park (5 minutes before the reception closed), and had a dinner of mac’n cheese.  The next morning we went for a run around town and then Lindsay worked.  After lunch we set out to sample some of the vino visiting Rockford, Kabminye, Peter Lehman, and finally Penfolds.  As we usually do while visiting vineyards, we had a blast.  We even made our way to a gourmet cheese shop where we picked up some local brie, blue, and goat cheese.  After a wonderfully informative last stop of the day at Penfolds, we returned to the caravan park and proceeded to eat all the cheese we had just purchased.  Later in the evening we had a nice dinner at a local Tanunda restaurant, 1918, before hitting the hay.

The Great Ocean Road (May 3-5)

Lindsay, as usual, was not moving very quickly in the few minutes immediately following Monday morning's alarm.  It was 7am and the cab would be there in an hour to bring us to the Apollo camper van rental center.  We quickly packed and checked out, and an hour later (after a brief fight with the Melbourne traffic) we arrived.  Soon thereafter we were informed by the woman behind the counter that she had good new and bad news.  The bad was that Apollo could not honor their reservation due to the fact that our requested vehicle was in the shop.  The good news, however, was that we had been upgraded to the…(cue sounds of trumpets) Apollo Euro-tourer!  After getting nickled and dimed for the next 30 minutes, we exited the office and walked around back to meet our home-on-wheels for the next week.  Nearly 9 feet tall and over 23 feet long, this was not the no-frills backpacker accommodation we had signed up for.

Complete with toilet, shower, microwave, fridge and air con/heater, it was how rich old people are supposed to travel.  As soon as she stepped inside, Lindsay’s face lit up and my heart sank.  The only thing bigger than the behemoth vehicle out on the lot was the smile on my wife’s face.  It was at that moment that I realized our days of “roughing it” were over.  We still had nearly 2 months and 3 different camper vans to experience, and none of our future camper vans could hold a candle to this luxurious monster.  This was like asking her to eat lobster and ice cream on our wedding night followed by 50 years of mac and cheese.  Oh well.

Once the obligatory inspections of the vehicle were done, I climbed up behind the wheel, put on my Bundy Rum trucker hat and off we went.  It took some getting used to, but before long, I was getting the hang of driving something so large.  From the outskirts of Melbourne, we headed southwest toward Geelong and the start of the Great Ocean Road.  Our first day was beautiful.   The sun was peaking out between the clouds and the ocean was the perfect color of blue. We took our time, stopping at nearly every scenic overlook, which seemed to come every 3-4 kilometers.  We took a break in Lorne for coffee, donuts, and some fresh bagels. In Apollo Bay, we picked up some supplies and parked for the evening at a caravan park in Marengo, a stones throw from the pounding surf.  Our first experience at caravanning went perfectly according to plan.  I plugged in the van to the outlet, checked the water level, turned on the gas, flipped on the lights and the internal heater and we were in business.  We took a walk down by the ocean, returned to the van and had some brie and wine for hors d'oeuvres. This was followed by a delicious dinner of chili, cheese, and onion over boiled potatoes.  Later after we had converted the living space to a bed, the rain began to fall and Lindsay silently gave me a look as if to say, “I am so happy.  Please don’t make me sleep in a wet, drafty tent again.  I am warm, cozy and my belly is full.  Campervan = Lindsay’s happy, Lindsay’s happy = you are happy.”  Well, as we lay there in our bed watching a movie while the rain and wind whipped around outside, I had to admit it was nice.

The next day started early again.  I woke up just before dawn and the light peaking in the window was a beautiful color, so I grabbed my camera and went down to the ocean.  After that we had a shower, ate breakfast, and got back on the road.  The weather was initially beautiful, but it didn’t take long for the rain to hit.  It was between a fine mist and a drizzle for most of the morning.  We had planned on doing a little hiking at Otway National Park, but with the rain getting heavier and heavier we decided against it.  On our way there, however, we spotted 15 koalas, including one walking across the road.  Very cool.

We took a break from the rain and driving in Port Campbell, where we bought a cheapo umbrella, and parked for a bit of lunch trying to wait out the rain.  After that the weather cleared a little and we took in all the classic Great Ocean Road sites such as 12 The Apostles (although there are only 6 now), London Bridge, the Arch, etc.  That night we pulled in late to the Surf Side Caravan Park in Warrnambool and had a delicious veggie pasta dinner.

The next morning, Lindsay stayed in the camp kitchen doing a couple hours of work while I went into town to get gas, groceries, and mail off our visa extension paperwork.  I picked her up and we headed east.