Wine, Food, and More Wine (Tasmania: Day 5)

Tasmania is famous for a lot of things, and food and wine are most certainly at the top of the list.  Both Matt and I were really looking forward to all the opportunities we'd have to sample the world-renowned foods and wines.  We had already been very impressed with our meals in Hobart in particular, and the best was yet to come.

At this point, I'd like to mention that despite the fact that eating and drinking was a major component of the trip - and I think I might venture to use the word gluttony to describe some of our meals - we were so active otherwise with hiking, kayaking, and diving, that we managed to escape Tasmania having only gained about a pound or so.  That was a nice surprise.

Launceston and the Tamar Valley are known to have some of the best vineyards in Tasmania.  We planned to see at least one, and there were an overwhelming number of vineyards to choose from.  Ultimately we chose the Josef Chromy vineyard for two reasons: 1) the restaurant was open (Tuesdays seem to be popular days for vineyard restaurants to be closed), and 2) we had gotten to sample their sauvignon blanc in Hobart while at dinner at Catch and had been extremely pleased.

The drive from Cradle Mountain to the vineyard was relatively uneventful.  We were both so exhausted from the 8 hour hike the day before that we couldn't bring ourselves to embark on other journeys into Mole Creek and Mount Jerusalem National Parks, both of which were along the way.  After a couple hours on the road we took the turn to the Josef Chromy vineyard and settled down for a late lunch and wine tasting.

We chose a sample platter that included four appetizers and four wine tastings as well as a cheese plate and an additional glass of the sauvignon blanc. The food was absolutely incredible and the wines were paired perfectly.  The sampling platter included oysters on the half shell (with lemon) paired with their riesling, brie with raspberry compote paired with the gewurztraminer, a vegetable frittata paired with the chardonnay, and roasted lamb paired with the pinot noir.  One of the things we loved about our experience there was the chance to try new varieties of wine - neither of us would have normally chosen those wines and it was nice to branch out a little.

We stuck around for a little while to explore the gorgeous garden around the restaurant and then headed into Launceston.  I chose another bartel (hotel above a bar) for our accommodation, which proved to be a nice and affordable option.  We cleaned up and wandered through town towards Cataract Gorge, a gorge that's literally in the middle of the city.  On our way there we stopped into Stillwater, one of the most reputable restaurants in Tasmania, for a drink and sushi appetizer.  We hadn't yet made dinner plans for later so we scanned their menu, ultimately deciding it was just too pricey.  We walked around the gorge for a half hour or so and then headed back to the bartel to change for dinner.

Neither of us were very hungry at the moment, so we had trouble coming up with a dinner plan.  But since we had enjoyed our sushi appetizer at Stillwater earlier, we thought maybe we'd try the sushi restaurant downtown.  It was too far to walk (and we were still feeling lazy from the Cradle Mountain hike), so we took the car, parked in the middle of town, and went hunting for the sushi restaurant. We did eventually find it, but it turned out to be one of those sketchy places with a conveyor belt and NO ONE was there.  We both got a bad feeling and opted to look for an alternative.  Unfortunately, it was getting late (well, 7:30, which is late for dinner in Australia) and restaurants were closing.  The only place that was still open was this place called The Northern Club.  We walked inside to find a disappointingly empty bar, but they were still serving food so we were thrilled.  We were also thrilled to find out it was what we called "Ganga Night," because all entrees were $10 off.  Just a few moments later one of the waitstaff asked us if we'd like to take a seat in the dining room.  She led us through a small hallway and further into one of the coziest restaurants we've been to.  We sat down at our table, glowing with happiness.  It was Heaven on Earth!

The meal proved to be even more incredible than the ambiance.  We began with an appetizer of chips (fries) and a feta and tomato salad.  Divine!  Our meals took awhile to cook but it was well worth the wait.  Matt had chosen the roasted lamb and potatoes and thought he was going to die of happiness.  I had chosen the seafood linguini, which was made with the most delectable olive oil I have ever tasted.  We had already stuffed ourselves but were not about to miss an opportunity to sample the chocolate platter for dessert.  Not unexpectedly, the dessert was incredible and we practically licked the plate clean.  We couldn't believe how good the food was, and we couldn't stop raving to the staff about how impressed we were.  Really, it was one of the best meals we've ever had, and that it was a random find it made it even better. Stuffed silly and a little tipsy, we ventured back to the bartel for very good night's sleep.

The Wild West and Cradle Mountain (Tasmania: Days 2, 3, and 4)

After making the executive decision not to visit the Cadbury chocolate factory after I lost a $25 dollar bet with Lindsay on whether or not it was an Australian company (it's a UK company FYI), I drove us out of Hobart and toward the west coast.  Despite the misty rain, the drive was green and beautiful.  On our way we found some back roads and visited Mount Field National Park, where we took a short hike through a moss-covered rainforest.

Mount Field is home to Russell Falls, the most photographed waterfall in Tasmania, as well as platypuses and countless pademelons, which are a marsupial similar to small wallabies.  We would be seeing a lot of those things throughout the trip.

Our path then took us through both the Franklin-Gordon Wild Rivers National Park and the southern part of Cradle Mountain National Park.  We made a couple more stops to take some quick photos and eventually made it to the western port town of Strahan (pronounced Strawn) around 7:30pm.

Although Tasmania is small, the roads are very slow and winding, so it takes a lot longer to get places than you'd think.  We had really underestimated how long it would take us to get from Hobart to Strahan.  Google maps says it should take 4 hours, but we spent 7 hours driving (not including our stops).  It was a long day. When we arrived in Strahan all the hotels were closed, so we were a bit concerned we'd be camping in the public park for the night.  We eventually found a holiday park with cabins and I called the after-hours number.  The owner was very nice and came down to the lobby to give us a cabin.  At this point it was getting pretty late, so we went straight into "town" for dinner.

Quick note: Lindsay and I have figured that if a Spaniard ever moved to Australia, he would never eat a single dinner.  We have found that food service ends very early nearly everywhere we go, big towns, small towns, whatever.  So for those of you looking to visit soon, consider yourself warned.

The only place open at 8:00 was the local pub. They didn't look terribly excited to see us walk in the door that late (the kitchen closed at 8:30), but seated us anyway and suggested we make or orders quickly. The food was very good though, and it was warm in cozy inside.  After dinner we attempted to watch a movie on Lindsay's laptop but fell asleep about 30 minutes in.

The next day we vetoed the touristy Wilderness Railway Tour and Gordon River Cruise in order to purchase supplies and get up to our next destination (Cradle Mountain) as soon as possible.  We needed gas though, and we had a little trouble finding a gas station that was open (it was, after all, a Sunday).  Luckily we had just enough gas to make it a little town called Rosebery, which is about halfway between Strahan and Cradle Mountain.   In Rosebery we were able to purchase everything we needed for our Cradle Mountain camping adventure, including Lindsay's new favorite Cadbury chocolate rolls and a Cadbury Fruit and Nut bar (a tribute to Grandma Elsie).

From Rosebery it was only another 2 hours and we were at Cradle Mountain National Park where we planned to hike and camp for a few days.  We checked into our great campsite, complete with indoor cooking facilities with log fireplaces, hot showers and a camp store with cold beer.  We had the afternoon free so we drove down to the ranger station and went on a little hike up Dove Canyon.

After 20 minutes of walking along a roaring river, we saw our first echidnia.  No, not the "mother of all monsters" from greek mythology, but the egg-laying, spiny anteater (or porcupine)-like creature I had been so keen to see.  It put on quite a show for us, which we happily took in for about half an hour.  The rest of the hike was beautiful.  Waterfalls, valleys, moutains, deep gorges.  All there for us to enjoy.  There was one thing that perplexed us on the hike however.  All over the trail were little, tan, cuboid pieces of poo.  I had read that this was the poo of the wombat, and based on the sheer amout of the stuff, we should have been swimming in wombats.  Despite the plethora of stools, we didn't see even one (we found out why later).  After the hike we felt the temperature dropping, so we stopped by the store in the Cradle Mountain Lodge where we got Lindsay a warm hat (yet another wonderful purchase).  We then popped into the tavern at the Lodge to warm ourselves by the fire, enjoy a glass of wine, and plan our big hike to the summit of Cradle Mountain.

Later we returned to camp, cleaned up, and got situated in one of the shared enclosed kitches.  Cooking garlic shrimp and pasta by a roaring fire sure is a nice way to camp.  Halfway through dinner Lindsay went outside to feed a flower to one of the local pademelons.

That night we had a bit of a surprise and we figured out why our tent is rated as a three-season and not a four.  Overnight the clouds disappeared and the temperature dropped below zero. It was uncomfortably cold inside the tent and it was tough pulling ourselves out of our sleeping bags at 7 the next morning (thank goodness Lindsay had that hat).  We quickly got dressed, scraped the ice off the windshield, and downed a breakfast of sourdough PB and Js.  We drove to the bus stop and waited for the shuttle bus that would bring us to Ronny Creek, the start of the Overland Track.  We would be hiking the first part of what is know to be one of the best backpacking trips in the world.

We were dropped off and registered our hike in the logbook.  It was glorious.  It was early morning and we were hiking in the middle of nowhere under sunny blue skies with no one else around.  Again, loads of poo, no wombats.  After about 2 hours of hiking we rose in elevation to Marion's lookout, a perfect vantage to see both Cradle Mountain as well as Dove Lake.

We continued on to the base of the mountain and started up the steep climb to the summit.  I will admit that it was a challenging climb over steep boulders treacherously balanced above 300 feet vertical cliffs.  But boy was it fun. For Lindsay it was more scary than fun.  I had forgotten that she's afraid of heights.

But with a few creative white lies told by me, I coaxed her to the top.  The view from the top was spectacular and well worth the effort.  And, by the time we got to the summit Lindsay had relaxed a lot and found the climb down lots of fun.  When we got back to the base of the mountain we continued to hike along the rock face and around some of the other lakes (Dove Lake, Twisted Lakes).  It took us another another 4 hours to get back to the start though, making for an 8 hour total hike.  Exhausted, we drove back to the campsite and got cleaned up with a hot shower.  Again, we drove down to the tavern at Cradle Mountain Lodge. By the way, the Lodge is the fancy schmacy place where rich people stay and pay several hundred dollars a night for a room.  We on the other hand preferred to just take advantage of the tavern's wood stove and nice beers/wine.  We had a great time relaxing and rehashing the day while eating soup and nachos.  It was all deserved after our very long adventure.

After dinner we walked around the Lodge and waited to be picked up for the Cradle Mountain night tour.  In the twilight we could see a bunch of people staring at a greyish/brown lump in the grass.....a wombat!  We all took tons of pictures and videos as the little bastard calmly chewed on the grass minding his own business.

Just about then the bus for the night tour arrived and off we went.  The bus had multiple spotlights shooting out in all directions and two in the front that could be aimed if needed.  By the time we had finished picking everyone up (around 9pm), it was pitch black outside.  That is when the best part of an amazing day began.  Remember the mystery poo?  As we scanned the sides of the road we finally knew where it was all coming from.  Wombats were everywhere.  In fact all sorts of kangroos, wallabies, ringtailed possums, and womabts were literally everywhere.  It was like a nocturnal Serengeti.

We dropped half of the group off at "Devil World" where they would see the elusive Tasmanian devils in captivity.  Five minutes afer leaving them, we were treated to seeing 3 devils in the wild.  It was amazing.  At 11pm the tour came to an end and we quickly went to bed.  The hike had really worn us out. The next morning we stopped into a small local cafe where Lindsay did some work and I read my book.  At 11 or so we took off to the Tamar Valley and Launceston: Tasmanian wine country.

*We'll be posting a link with all of our photos soon.

Off to TAZ.... (Tasmania: Day 1 - Hobart)

A couple of weeks ago, I finally got some vacation.  After being here for almost 6 months I finally got some time off from work to do a little traveling and escape the droll of working in the Emergency Department week after week.  Now before you write me a harsh and mean spirited email about how I am a ungrateful bastard and I have no idea how lucky I am, read on.  Obviously I am only kidding.  Lindsay and I remind ourselves almost daily how incredibly lucky we are to be doing what we are doing.  In fact, we very often take "time outs" during great dinners, during runs here along The Strand, during hikes in the nearby national parks, or even during beautiful sunsets on our porch just to reflect on how appreciative we are (and how unbelievably lucky we are).  That all being said, this time off was the first official vacation week of the year.  Just so all the Americans reading can have a better understanding of how backward the U.S. is when it comes to the balance of recreation and vocation, here is what the Aussies get...every year.  Most people get 4 weeks paid vacation, the docs in my group get 5.  In addition to that, they get 3.5 weeks of PDL (Profession Development Leave), which is paid time off to go "develop" oneself professionally.  Usually that means skiing in Japan or sitting on a beach on the Gold Coast.  If the docs dont use up all their  PDL....they can bank it and turn it into Long Service Leave where they can take up to 6 months of PAID leave to go do something "educational" overseas.  This is normal here.  This is why the rest of the world cannot belive that the average American gets 2.4 weeks of vacation per year.  Live to work or work to live?

Anyway, two Friday's ago the sound of the alarm screaming at 4:30 AM signaled the start of our adventure to Tasmania, Australia's smallest state.  Our first stop: Hobart, the capital of Tasmania.  We had been watching the weather prior to our trip and knew that even if the forecasted rain stayed away, we were in for a major change in temperature.  When we left the warmth of our perpetually blue-skied tropical seaside town it was 33C (92 F).  Six hours later, as we made our final descent into Hobart, the captain announced it was 18C (64 F) and drizzling.  Amazingly enough, when I looked at Lindsay, she was smiling.  WARNING: BEFORE READING THIS MAKE SURE YOU ARE SITTING DOWN!  Lindsay was actually looking forward to being cold. 

A quick note on the seasonal psychology of the southern hemisphere.  This has been a bit tricky for both of us.  The weather this "winter" (July-Sept) was perfect.  About 25 C and pinic weather every single day.  Our seasonal confusion began about the time Clemson and Arizona had their first games.  It was football season!  It was fall!  Thanksgiving was just around the corner.  We both had memories of bundling up during a classic Boston October.  Even in the deserts of Tucson we could expect hot chili on a cold night.  Not so much in tropical Queensland.  Every day now it is getting hotter and more humid.  I know its not directly related, but if the world Climate Change Summit was moved from frigid Denmark to sweltering Townsville, those politicians would get something done and fast!  Anyway, Tasmania offered us both a respite from the humid inferno and a reminder of what a coat is for.  That is why Lindsay was happy.

When we arrived we got the car and headed into the city.  In a slightly prophetic move, Lindsay had booked our first room above a bar in the middle of downtown Hobart.  We got settled in and I ventured out to expore while Lindsay sat down to work with a glass of sauvignon blanc and her laptop.  She had an "emergency thingamabob" for work that had to be done immediately.  I walked around Hobart taking some pictures and scouting out the local restaurant/bar scene.  It's a neat little city sandwiched between the harbor and the 4,000 foot Mount Wellington.



I returned to the hotel and Lindsay was ready to go out.  We did a bit of wandering around town and first ended up at a fish n' chips joint called Fish Frenzy where we shared the BEST $17 bowl of smoky fish chowder ever.  (Yes, the chowder was actually $17.  But at least it was about 1.5 liters of soup, which was more than enough for both of us.) After that we walked down to the famous Salamanca Square, the home of some of the city's best wine bars and restaurants, and of course the weekly markets.  We visted a few bars and pubs, sampling the local pinot noirs and sauvignon blancs, enjoying the warmth from the outdoor heat lamps.  In our search for the perfect dinner spot we ventured into a shop that was having a big sale on camping gear.  We purchased an awesome picnic blanket for $19, which proved to be quite handy throughout the Tasmania trip.  We eventually stumbled upon a restaurant called Catch, where we ended up eating dinner.  We were still a bit full from the chowder, so we shared a delicious seafood pasta (with mussels, fish, prawns/shrimp, and scallops) as well as a couple oysters on the half shell. It had been a long day, so after dinner we retired to our "bartel."

The next morning was Saturday, the day of the weekly markets at Salamanca Square.  These markets are listed in all the guidebooks and on all the websites as a Hobart Institution and a must-do.  We were skeptical, but we ventured out in the misty rain anyway.  We both were pleasently surprised at the quality of the markets.  They had nice looking crafts, quality artwork, fresh bread, local cheeses, homemade sausages, candy, and a most impressive display of local produce.  We picked up some fresh sourdough, some strawberries, and some other veggies, and afterwords we went back to the camping store to purchase a small collapsible cooler on sale for $10 (that also proved to be an extremely useful purchase).  At about 11am we packed up the car and headed northwest toward the wilderness of western Tasmania.

Thanksgiving in Oz

For the second time now Matt and I have celebrated Thanksgiving in the Southern Hemisphere.  Last year we celebrated a very memorable Thanksgiving in El Calafate, a small Argentinian town relatively close to Torres del Paine. This year it was no less memorable.

We planned our party for Friday the 20th since we would be flying to Tasmania on the real holiday, and after all, we'd be the only ones who'd notice we weren't celebrating on the real day.  About 10 days beforehand we started some of the planning by inviting our friends and coworkers and coming up with a menu: turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, green bean casserole, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, and pumpkin bread. A few weeks prior to that I had ordered a large can of Libby's pumpkin from a store in Melbourne that imports U.S. foods (http://www.usafoods.com.au/).  I'm very very particular about pumpkin, so I splurged and spent the money - about $8 for the pumpkin and $10 for the shipping - for the real deal.  Besides, you can't find canned pumpkin in Australia and I didn't have the time nor the tools to make it from scratch.  And I wasn't about to spend a Thanksgiving without a piece of Mom's/Nana's pumpkin pie.

A few days later Matt went to our local butcher to scope out turkeys. Turkeys, it turns out, can be hard to come by here (the exception being within about 2-3 weeks of Christmas).  And large American-sized turkeys just don't exist.  So instead of a 10 pound turkey we had to settle for two 2.8 kg turkeys (about 6 pounds each).  Perfect for our group, which we figured would be about 8 or so.

Well, as the days passed and our party approached we got a few more RSVPs, bumping our head count to 11.  We were starting to get a bit concerned we wouldn't have enough turkey.  But after consulting a handful of websites with turkey calculators that help you estimate how much turkey you need for a given number of people, we realized we'd be okay after all.  About 2.5 days before the party we tossed the turkeys into the fridge to thaw.

The day before the party Matt and I did the rest of the shopping: cranberry sauce from the jar, stuffing from a box (a very good match to StoveTop in my opinion), potatoes, butter, milk, etc.  Our friends would be bringing other things like wine, beer, candied yams (yum!), and appetizers, so the shopping wasn't too overwhelming.  That night I made the pumpkin pies (one of which had a homemade crust), and we made the fried onions for the green bean casserole (our substitute for French's fried onions).  The pies turned out beautifully.


Friday rolled around and the standard Thanksgiving stress set in.  A few more RSVPs came in last minute and our head count was up to 13.  We were convinced the two little birds wouldn't be enough. On top of that, it was our first turkey cooking experience and we were both becoming terrified we'd screw up, thereby ruining Thanksgiving.

I think we consulted roughly 30+ websites before we settled on a cooking style (breast down for about 2 hours then flipping for the remaining 45 min, rotating the turkeys after an hour b/c we were doing two at a time), cooking temperature (about 160 C), and cooking time (2.5 hrs or so).  I also sent Matt out for a meat thermometer, which would ultimately help us determine whether the turkeys were really done.  Call it cheating, but we had 11 other people to impress.

We pulled out the turkeys in the early afternoon and despite the fact we had given them ample time to thaw, there was ice inside them.  Following a small panic session, we decided to give the turkeys a quick bath in our large utility sink in the laundry - this thankfully did the trick and we were back in business.

After Matt prepped the turkey (rubbed with butter and seasoning salt, stuffed with some lemon halves and spices) and put it in the oven, we got the mashed potatoes and stuffing going and the tables cleaned and set.

Party time arrived and ultimately we had 14 for dinner.  Together our friends brought handfuls of bottles of wine, dinner rolls, ginger bread cookies, a delicious seafood bruschetta appetizer, a spicy pineapple appetizer, candied yams, and ice cream.  Seated around the table were people from all over the world - Australia, Germany, Sweden/Poland, Trinidad, and of course the U.S. :)   Dinner was a huge success.  The turkey was PERFECT and we had plenty to go around, probably because most of these people weren't used to the idea of filling themselves to the brim with turkey.  And I think everyone seemed to enjoy the idea of a holiday that celebrates being thankful for what you have.  And who doesn't like an excuse to hang out with friends/family, eat delicious food, and drink delicious wine?

A few other friends joined us later for dessert, and we all called it a night around 2 am.  Now that's a good Thanksgiving.  And yes, the pie was worth the $18 pumpkin.

The Yongala Revisited/Turtle Safari

A few weekends ago (sorry for the delay in posting) we had a four day weekend.  As we had been going and going and going every other weekend, we decided to hang back in Townsville for the first half and then go back to Ayr to do our makeup dive on the Yongala.  For Lindsay, Saturday was a "I am so tired of having 1,000,000 things on my to-do list and damn it one of these days I'm gonna take a Saturday and just finish some of these things" kind of day.  For me it was a "Wow Lindsay looks focused, I should just stay out of her way and let her go while at the same time performing the shopping duties and trying my hand at creating a delicious Malaysian meal for her to eat at the end of an ardous and productive day" kind of day.  Both went according to plan.  While she finished cards, paperwork, emails, work, etc., I slaved away over a hot stove juggling spices and coconut milk.  When the day had come to an end we went for a nice run and then sat down to a spicy meal of chicken rendang with a side of marinated unripe mangoes.  It was great.  After dinner we went to the BCC cinema, bought our tickets (we get discounted tickets with our Billabong Sanctuary membership so they're only $9 instead of $14) and watched 2012...which was AWSOME.
 
While on the subject of good food, I should mention that we have been expanding our world view when it comes to wines.  Before coming to Oz, we pretty much drank Cabernets if we wanted red and Pinot Grigio if we wanted white.  Since arriving, we have tried some amazing Sauvignon Blancs from New Zealand, and some Shirazes from South Australia.  There is so much good wine here it is amazing.

Sunday we listened to the Arizona-Cal game.  Yet another unlucky bounce for us.  This sure is the year of the bounce.  One off a foot (Washington), one off a lineman (Cal), and one off the goalposts.  After the game we packed up and headed an hour south to Alva Beach to camp the night before diving.  We ate a delectably greasy dinner at the Food Shack and then retired to the Alva Beach RV park, home of the Gun's (boys) and Roses (girls) toilets, to camp out for the night.  We found a nice spot far enough away from the numerous palm trees and their potentially lethal bombs of death (i.e., coconuts).  All over the campground there are signs stating "please do not camp under the palms, deadly coconuts above."   In case you did not know, it is a commonly held belief of Australians as well as the web that "there have more people in Australia have been killed by coconuts than crocodiles" and "you have a better chance of getting killed by a coconut falling on your head than being attacked by a shark."  This threat, after some web research, I have determined to actually be false. 

Here is an excerpt from a shark attack statistic website:

Article by Dr. Peter Barss in the Journal of Trauma entitled "Injuries Due to Falling Coconuts." (The article received an Ig Nobel Prize, given annually at Harvard by the editors of the Annals of Improbable Research in recognition of research that "cannot or should not be replicated." The award was presented in 2001, notwithstanding that the paper had been published in 1984. ( nine injuries in Papua New Guinea due to falling coconuts, none fatal. Barss notes that a coconut palm tree commonly reaches 25 meters in height, that a coconut can weigh two kilograms or more, and that a two-kilogram coconut falling 25 meters would have a velocity of 80 kilometers per hour on impact and a force of as much as 1,000 kilograms. Several victims suffered fractured skulls, were rendered comatose, etc. When we read the article, it said 9, not a 150! He provides an anecdotal account of one such death and in a separate paper estimates that over a four-year period five deaths in his hospital's service area were related to coconut palm trees (including climbers falling out of them). A recent report (Mulford et al, "Coconut Palm-Related Injuries in the Pacific Islands," ANZ Journal of Surgery, January 2001), which describes itself as "the largest review of coconut-palm related injuries," also reports no deaths and on the question of mortality merely cites Barss.

We woke up the next morning relieved to be alive.  After a scrumptous brekky of PB & J we headed down to the dive shop to check in.  Everything went according to plan and we had a wonderful 2 dives.  We saw a large grey nurse shark and a handful of beautiful sea snakes.  The visability was better than the last time we dove.

We returned to land, got in the car and drove north.  About 30K south of Townsville we took a turn and again headed for the coast.  We met up with one of our good friends Andrea (the biologist) and from there continued to AIMS, the Australian Institute Marine Science.  We had signed up to participate in a little ground breaking sea turtle research.  I was thrilled to feel like a real field biologist following in the footsteps of Jane Goodall and Jaques Coustaeu. We would be walking a beach at dusk, hoping to spot female sea turtles emerging from the sea to lay their eggs in the nearby dunes.  We spent a good 3 or 4 hours on the beach, but were not lucky enough to see any sea turtles.  Apparently we weren't the only unlucky ones though, because the groups from the previous three nights didn't get to see any either.  I did get some great night shots with my Nikon (and tripod of course).  But after about 10pm or so, we all called it quits and headed back to Townsville.

So this is why they call it a RAINforest!

Last weekend (Nov 6-9) we headed south. As you can probably tell by now, when it comes to adventure and places to visit, Townsville is a bit of a doughnut town. Kind of like I would image Sacramento to be. It's a great place to live, but the really sweet stuff is about 3-4 hours in any direction. Anyway, this time we went about 4 hours south to see Eungella National Park, which is about an hour inland from the seaside town of Mackay. As amazing as this seems, Lindsay and I were on a quest to actively seek out a venomous Australian creature. After swimming with sharks and body surfing with crocs, yet again we would put ourselves in mortal danger.

On the way down I was listening to a little Neil Young and really enjoying the scenery. As we crested over a hill 30 minutes outside of the town of Ayr, I saw red and blue lights flashing in front of me coming the other way. As I saw Austraia's finest pass me and then make a quick U-turn in the highway, I knew it was me he was after. The traffic stop was pretty routine. He was a typical cop with typical dark sunglasses. I gave the typical yes sir/no sir and he gave me the ATYPICAL $200 ticket. The rest of the weekends expenses...$135.

Now that I was an international criminal, I set the cruise control for 1k over the speed limit and gingerly continued down the road. The rest of the trip was uneventful. Two and a half hours later we climbed out of a beautiful cane farming valley up a steep road to the mountain town of Eungella. We found our way down to the National Park and went into the ranger station/bakery and cafe to check in. The lady behind the counter was very nice, but seemed surprised that we were going to camp. "You should have that campsite all to yourselves," she said, "considering the storm that is moving in." Lindsay and I looked at each other and laughed. We had long ago stopped checking the weather. From the moment we moved here, every day has been the exact same; 77-85 with blue skys. We had a tent with a rain fly so we figured we would make do.

We got set up at our site and then got ready to meet the reason we had travelled so far. To hunt down this beast, the most venomous member of its taxanomic class...mammalia.

Prior to this trip I knew the playpus was unusual, but in preparing to meet one face to face, I did a little research and discovered how truly amazing they are. Wikipedia describes them as an "egg-laying, venomous, duck-billed, beaver-tailed, otter-footed mammal."

Above you can see the spine and venom sac.

As the sun began to set, we strolled down by the mountain stream and waited. Eungella is a beautiful location with pockets of virgin rain forest and wide meandering streams, perfect for the platypuses/platypi that call it home.

As it got darker and darker so did my hope of actually seeing one of those odd little things. Then all of a sudden a ripple could be seen across the river. Then another, this time closer. After about 10 minutes, there were ripples all over the pond, and then we saw them. They were resting, playing and rooting around for food down in the mud underwater. I can only imagine they were using their electroreception to find prey. Yup, its true. The platypus and the echidna are the only two mammals that used electrolocation to follow the electrical field of their prey.

Lindsay and I watched them for about an hour and then headed up the hill to grill some grub. After being harrased by a very aggressive bush turkey, we put on our headlamps and started cooking. Lindsay was in charge that night and made the best damn lamb burger with onions this side of Wagga Wagga. After that we went to bed.

Of note, the campsite with our tent was about 500m from the car, so when Lindsay forgot to bring our books to read we were too lazy to go back to the car to get them. Our solution? We watched an episode of Star Trek on Lindsay's laptop in the tent. It was heaven.

It was about 3AM when the first drops of rain hit the tent. I was excited because we had seen so little rain during our Australian stay. It was about 3:07AM when it started dumping. I was less excited then. We survived the night, but decided to move camp the next day.

The next morning, we packed up everything between downpours and got back in the car. As we were over 800m above sea level, we had nice drive through the clouds in a misty, spitting rain. I wanted a cup of coffee so we stopped in a cooky little cafe run by an excentric German lady. After that we headed off the mountain, back down into the cane farming valley below. There we stocked up on supplies and went looking for Finch Hatton Gorge and the Platypus Bush Camp.

After a nice dirt road drive past cane fields and mango trees full of fruit, we found the Bush Camp. The Camp is a great jungle retreat straight out of Swiss Family Robinson. There were tree huts, some connected by elevated walkways. Two wild cockatoos sang out as we checked in. The showers only had three walls and the fourth was open to the rainforest. In the middle of it all was a nice open air common hut complete with kitchen and BBQ. It was still raining on and off and as we walked around the camp, we remembered that the nice ranger/baker back at Eungella had told us the storm was supposed to last until the next day. I had a choice to make.

Option 1: For $15 dollars stay in the tent. Save money, get wet, Lindsay not super happy; or

Option 2: For $100 dollars stay in romantic tree hut complete with vintage kerosene lamp and fall asleep to the sounds of the rain in an oversized bed all while staying completely dry, Lindsay happy.

After choosing option 2, we drove up the road and went on a couple of beautiful hikes in Finch Hatton Gorge. We ended up sitting in the rain at Wheel of Fire falls talking to a nice Austrailan couple from Mackay. I went for a dip in the pool but decided to get out when one of the other swimmers found a leach on her leg. After a little more hiking and a cool cliff jump by me, we planned on going back to the car for a sandwich. The Australian couple overheard this and suggested that we change plans and head to the town of Pinnacle, where we could get some pretty perfect pies at the Pinnacle Pub. We adjusted our plans and had quite possibly the best lunch so far consisting of a curried steak pie with chips and a steak and mashed potato pie. All with a couple of XXXXs to wash it down.

After lunch we went back to the Bush Camp and relaxed the afternoon away amid ever increasing downpours. That evening, after unsuccessfully scouting out the local platypus, we BBQ chicken by lantern light and listed to the rain in our tree hut.

The next day we got up early and headed into Mackay. We drove around town and then had a nice Sunday Bruch at the La De Da Cafe. It was there that I discovered that all the Australians eat using an upside down fork in their left hand and knife in their right. They think that we Americans eat like pigs because we turn the fork "upside down" and "shovel" our food our mouths. I gave their way a try and just as with vegemite, I say no thanks.

We had a bit of time to kill before heading to our next destination so we decided to see a movie. Our choices were limited, so we ended up spending $36 (not a typo) to see The Time Traveler's Wife. Lets just say I earned some points.

After that cinematic tour de force we drove an hour north to Cape Hillsborough National Park in search of kangaroos on the beach. I know it sounds like some goofy tropical drink, but we had heard (and seen pics) of kangaroos that would walk on the beach at this spot. We found our campsite and went out on the beach and waited...and waited...and waited. I went back to the car to get our headlamps and there in the park near the car were about 6 kangaroos just hanging out. So after taking a few shots of the beach, we headed up to the park to hang out with the kangaroos.

We had a nice BBQ that night and we were visited by an Australian Possum. The rest of the evening was relatively uneventful.

The next day we got up, pointed the car to the north and in 3 hours we were home. (We did stop in Ayr to again get sandwiches from our favorite deli, Dal Santo's.)

Now that is what I call service with a smile!

Just a quick one.

Today as Lindsay slaved away at her computer, I took a look at our "to do" list figuring I would take care of a few things to help her out. After bypassing some of the less fun things, I saw # 14: "Look into maid service". That sounded easy so I decided to find a maid to make my lovely and hard working wife's life a little easier. This would allow us (her) more time to cook and take care of me. ;)

So I did what any sensible man in the 21st century would do...I asked google. Now if you were in Townsville and looking for a maid, what would your search terms be? How about "Townsville" and "Maid". Well that is exactly what I did, and here is the first return.

http://www.australianmaid.com.au/services.htm

After looking at the 1/2 hour price, I think I'll be doing the cleaning from now on.

I'm Joinin' the Navy! (A Halloween in OZ)

Sorry its been awhile...

A couple of weeks ago we brought a bit of US commercialism/pagan holiday to the folks in Townsville. Our American friends Chris and Sara had a Halloween party and invited a bunch of people from the hospital. Halloween is not a very big thing here...yet. On my way home from work I was listening to a radio talk-show about the growing participation in the holiday by the Aussies. Two of the comentators felt it was a harmless, fun activity for the kids to dress up and have fun, whereas the third could not disagree more. "What Australia doesn't need is another adoption of an American tradition, especially one that forces our kids to eat candy and dress up as ghosts and monsters." So it is known, despite their constant desire to distance themselves from all things American, the Aussies have been born and bread for generations on our cultural exports of TV, music, movies, holidays and even Hollywood gossip. The comentator continued, "If I am sitting at home, I don't want to be bothered every 20 minutes by someone knocking on my door and asking me for something. If I wanted more of that, I'd support the Mormons." Despite his argument, in talking to the folks around Townsville, it is a holiday that is catching on.

So Lindsay rented her costume and I made mine. See if you can guess what we are. The answer will be found below.

wait for it...

wait for it...

A sailor and a cassowary

Here is a link to the rest...

Halloween in OZ

To Ayr is human....

Another 9-10 days straight of work...another long weekend. Just the way we like it. This last long weekend, Lindsay and I headed down about an hour south to a town called Alva Beach where we planned to do some more diving.

This was a trip we had been looking forward to for some time. In fact, Aunt Paula had given us this specific dive trip as a wedding present, complete with history, a pirate map, seashell stickers and a picture of the ship we would be exploring. Yes, this would be THE wreck dive on the S.S. Yongala.

For divers in the know, the Yongala is seen as one of the best dives in all of Australia. From the first time Lindsay and I heard this, we were confused how in a country with the Great Barrier Reef, this sunken ship in the middle of nowhere could be so special. Read on and we'll tell you what we learned.

We started out driving 25 minutes south to Bowling Green National Park where we explored Alligator Creek. Between Brisbane and Cairns there are over 10 creeks called Alligator creek. Number of alligators to ever exist in Australia...zero. All crocs actually. Anyway, no crocs or gators in the park, just a bunch of stagnant pools and bush turkeys. We haven't seen it yet, but it sure sounds like this place transforms into something completely different during "The Wet."




After that we just took our time exploring the side roads and beach towns down the coast toward the next major population center of Ayr (population 8,300). We got into Ayr about noon and we were hungry. A few kilometers outside Ayr we had seen a billboard for an Italian deli that claimed to be "The best this side of Milan." Well, if there is one thing we have come to expect while living here in Australia it's when it comes to most non-Australian foods, don't get your hopes up. This is not to say that we haven't had some wonderful meals here because we most certainly have. Its just that everything is "Same, same...but different." This is a term that I first learned in Thailand and can be found throughout all of Asia. Its used when something resembles the correct thing, but upon further exploration it is found to be not quite right.

Example #1: "Miss Sushi" is a restaurant in Townsville. The name of the restaurant says "Sushi". The people working there appear to be of some Asian descent. The order one receives comes in rolls and rice is involved. That is the "Same, same." After getting home you discover that the tuna roll is in fact cooked tuna salad wrapped in rice and another has BBQ chicken in the center. That is the "but different" part. (This is an extreme example, and Lindsay would call this "Different, different....and gross.")


Example #2: Ketchup here (and pasta sauces in general) all look and smell exactly the same but are ever-so-slightly sweeter. A noticeable difference, not bad though like the sushi differences.

Example # 3: The ladyboys of Thailand. If you don't know what this is...google "ladyboy" and "Thailand." Scary.

But I digress. We both had a hankering for an Italian sub and after a bit of driving we found Del Santo's deli, of the aforementioned billboard. With our expectations very low we walked in. WOW. We were both blown away. Imagine walking into a good deli in NYC or Boston or SF. I know its hard to believe, but this place had it all. From capricola to prosciutto to pasta makers to over 20 varieties of imported olive oil. It was amazing. I got to talking with the shop owner and apparently cane farming had brought in huge numbers of Italian immigrants, and they needed somewhere to get traditional foods. This was it. We had a couple of great subs and went on our way.

Small towns in Australia pretty much shut down on the weekends. At the late hour of 2pm, all the shops were closed except for the bottle shop and the pubs. So, after we stopped for photos at the "Big Snake," we headed over to the Queens Hotel for a pint of XXXX, the local brew. It was a warm afternoon and the cold beer hit the spot as we sat on the porch of the hotel and watched the few people still in town pass by. We finished our drinks and decided to walk down the street to the theater and see what was playing. We ended up seeing an Australian film called Charlie and Boots, which was perfect for a warm Saturday afternoon in Ayr. There were many inside Australian jokes, including a stop at the "Big Koala" and a Ned Kelly reference. We were thrilled that we've been faux Aussies long enough to get the jokes.




After the show we picked up an Eagle Brothers pizza and drove the 15K east to the beach town of Alva Beach. This very small and sleepy town has been described as a drinking town with a fishing problem. We ate our pizza on a sand dune overlooking the sea and then looked for a place to sleep for the night. At first we thought we would camp on the dunes, but the wind was intense and we saw many many ATV tracks along the sand indicating it was a hot spot for off-road driving, so we thought better of that. After a bit of searching I convinced Lindsay we would be fine camping in the middle of a public park in the center of town. Under the cover of darkness we set up the tent and got situated in the park. We were lucky that the park's public restroom was not locked so we had somewhere to go.

At this point I am sure that Mary and Rick are second guessing their approval of me. What kind of guy would take their daughter to camp in a public park and use run-down public toilets with no showers? That actually is a good question.


Everything was fine. The ground was soft, the bathrooms were tolerable and we started to fall asleep to the sound of the waves crashing nearby. Until the cars stared to arrive. Over the next 4 hours multiple people pulled their cars into the parking lot of the park and shined their lights around, used the public phone booth, and made lots of noise. Lindsay was nice enough to let me know each time another car would show up by waking me up. She was convinced that either the police or the local hooligans were coming to either arrest/kill/taunt us. Needless to say we did not sleep there the next night.

The next day we got up early and went to the dive shop. We signed our papers and got all geared up. We drove out across the dunes to a sandbar and hopped on the boat. The excitement was palpable. As was the disappointment 10 minutes later when the skipper announced that one of the motors was broken and we would all have to go back to the dive shop. Back at the dive shop we had a BBQ lunch and waited until 2:00 for a trip that would never come. We were lucky since we had booked to dive next day as well, not to mention we only live an hour away. No one else in our group was as lucky. Many were travelers and that was their one chance to see the Yongala.

We spent the rest of that day back at the Queens hotel and at the movie theater where we watched a dumb Bruce Willis movie. Afterwords we dined on some incredibly delicious fish 'n' chips and calamari from the Alva Beach Food Shack. That night we moved into the Alva Beach caravan park, which was posh compared to the local park complete with mini-store and swimming pool. All for the reasonable price of $20. Nothing's too good for my Lindsay.





The next morning we went through the same steps as the day before, but this time the boat worked and we were off. 30 minutes later we stopped the boat in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere. Finally we were at the Yongala.

Back in the spring of 1911, the S.S. Yongala was heading up the Australian coast from Mackay to Cairns. Unbeknownst to the captain, he and the 121 others on board were headed directly into the path of a cyclone. 5 days later when the ship did not show up in Cairns, the largest search and rescue in Australian history took place, but the ship wasn't found. In 1943 a WWII mine sweeper spotted something that they thought was a coral shoal but it was not investigated further. 14 year later a couple of divers from Townsville finally identified the ship. They found a safe in the wreckage and although the contents had turned to mush, the serial number matched with the company back in England who had made the safe for the Yongala. The Yongala had at last been found.




So why do so many come from so far to dive this spot? Location, location, location. The GBR is about 20-40 miles off shore. Out there at the reef there is a huge collection of both plant and animal life. The area between the reef and the shore, on the other hand, is a virtual barren waste land where there is essentially very little life. There is nothing for the coral to grow on, and no place for the little fish to hide and live. All of a sudden 98 years ago, a surrogate reef arrived and the ocean critters did the rest. The Yongala today represents an oasis in the desert. It attracts all the sea life from miles and miles and concentrates it in one small patch of sea floor. Depending on the dive one can see, sea snakes, whales, sharks, groupers the size of a VW, turtles and literally thousands of species of fish in one spot.

Back on the boat. We got suited up and down we went. Lindsay was doing her deep water training since the ships bottom is at about 28 m (90 or so feet). After her training was done (which took all of 3 minutes), we had two very nice dive. We saw a few turtles, a handful of sea snakes, and all sorts of interesting critters. You could make out windows, the ships rudder and the toilets. Here's the link to pictures:


Ayr/Yongala Photos


After the two dives we were pooped. We all headed back to land and had another BBQ lunch back at the dive shop. Once we were done we got in the car and drove back up to Townsville. Lindsay was so tired she fell asleep at 8:15pm that night.

One last note. The giving of this dive for a wedding gift turns out to be interestingly ironic. Remember that story in the news about a guy who went on his honeymoon to Australia with his new wife and then she died while diving and at first everyone thought is was a terrible accident but then they figured out that this guy was a creep and had asked her to increase her life insurance just weeks prior to the dive and then he ultimately plead guilty to manslaughter? Guess where that happened?

Important links!!!

For those of you planning on visiting us or those who just want to understand the Australian Psyche, below we have provided two very important links.

1) The full list of Australian slang. I know it seems amazing, but they really do use these all the time. Make sure you look at "Budgie smuggler" and "Bush oyster"

http://www.koalanet.com.au/australian-slang.html

2)The Australian's have a fascination with "BIG THINGS." I don't really get it, but check this out.

http://www.bigthings.com.au/