Copyright © Tanya Piejus, 2001

23 September 2001

G'day from Brisbane

It seems that the events in America have had some far-reaching effects. As for Australia, the biggest worry at the moment is the forthcoming Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting that will involve the Queen and Tony Blair amongst others. Obviously security will be paramount and it's being held right here in sunny Brisbane. I'll have moved on by then which is probably no bad thing.

Anyway, onto cheerier things... Fraser Island was my first port of call this week and I went on an excellent three-day tour of what is basically one enourmous sand dune in the ocean off Hervey Bay. I'm sure you'll remember that it hit the news earlier this year when a nine-year-old boy was killed by two dingoes. Since then 30 of the island's 200 dingoes have been shot for being too familiar with humans. But if people will feed wild animals then what do they expect? Oh dear, I said I'd get onto a lighter subject, didn't I? Sorry.

Like I said, it was a great tour. What made it the best one I've done in Australia so far was our guide, Pete. He bombarded us with detailed information about Fraser and its wildlife. He even mentioned mycorrhizal fungi which the ecologists out there will understand is a rare thing indeed. When we weren't being educated on the complexities of the plants, animals and geology of the island, Pete was telling us funny stories, playing an eclectic blend of music and generally keeping a smile on our faces as we bounced around in his four-wheel drive coach. He even sang our choice of Tammy Wynette's 'Stand By Your Man' on karaoke night. I had to take my Akubra off to the guy if only for that. There was plenty of time during the three days to really appreciate Fraser's natural features. We trudged like Lawrence of Arabia over Sahara-esque plains of ruffled yellow sand to reach a foaming, roaring sea. We swam in lakes of the clearest, freshest water which logic says shouldn't even be there. We photographed multi-coloured layers of rock-hard sand sculpted into weird cliffs by wind and rain. We floated out to the ocean on the current of a sandy creek, under the scrutiny of boggle-eyed jungle perch. We parked next to the rusting wreck of a passenger steamer that broke its towing ropes and washed up on the endless sweep of the island's eastern beach. We spotted whales, turtles and rays off the craggy cliffs of Indian Head. We leapt off a 50-metre high dune to the exhumed skeletons of trees below. And we saw the dingoes, lean and handsome, sniffing at the meaty aromas from our breakfast table.

Whatever followed that blissful trip could have been a let-down but I'd already booked myself a treat for when I got back to Hervey Bay. Having seen distant humpback whales from dive boats and headlands, I decided to get up close and personal on a whale-watching expedition. We cruised to where the whales funnel in to bypass Fraser Island. From a previous whale-watching trip in New Zealand I knew that seeing the humpbacks would be exciting but I wasn't prepared for the sheer curiosity that the whales would exhibit when we got out there. The boats have to stop 100m away from the whales but they are so playful and nosey that they swim right up to and under the boats, spouting audibly through their blowholes and languidly waving their pectoral fins above the water and slapping their tails to say hello. We saw 10 whales in total including a mother and her two-week-old calf who she was teaching to breach and some precocious teenage whales who just seemed to want to show off.

What else do you do in Australia before breakfast but jump out of an aeroplane? Before I came to Oz I'd ear-marked a tandem skydive as something I wanted to do and I had my chance before leaving Hervey Bay on Thursday. Figuring I'd probably only do it once I went for the full monty - the maximum height of 14 000 feet, video, photos and a landing on the beach. There was just me, my instructor, Jim, the photographer and pilot in the tiny plane. Jim promptly fell asleep on the way up and was nudged awake in time to strap me on to the front of his harness before opening the door and letting the below-freezing air come roaring in. I remembered what I had to do and within a moment it was too late to change my mind as we were out the door and cartwheeling towards the fluffy clouds below. I felt like the breath had been sucked out of me but we soon got into the practised arch position and freefalled at 220 kph. We were flying for over 30 seconds before Jim pulled the parachute but it felt like 3. My mind went blank in the adrenalin rush of being weightless in the wind, the bright blue sky and the sudden appearance of the ground as we hurtled through the clouds. All went instantly quiet when the parachute opened and my cheeks stopped their jelly-like wubbering from the in-rush of air. We floated gently down to the beach with Jim sending us in occasional spirals and pointing out the landmarks. I had a grin on my face from ear to ear when we landed and wanted to go straight back up and do it all again.

And so to Brisbane and a bath and a bed in a room that I don't have to share with anyone else and home-cooked meals and TV. I'm staying with Rosey, John and Graham - Mum, Dad and brother to my Aussie friend, Anne, now resident in London. We had a Big Day yesterday visiting the local Big Things. We started out with the Big Mower then went on to the Big Pineapple in Nambour. This is basically an excuse to sell a load of tourist tat and the pineapple itself was closed for renovation, but I did get to ride the Nutmobile through the macadamia groves instead. Nambour also has a wild-eyed Big Cow and out on the coast there is the Big Shell which is actually for sale. Round the corner from it is a house made entirely of bottles. I think I've found my new home.

Today I toddled round the centre of this relaxed country town that masquerades as a city, taking in the lively markets, the cool and airy art gallery, the pretty botanical gardens and the rambling campus of Anne's university. I got to meet the rest of her lovely family when they came over for a barbie this afternoon, including her very cute new nephew, Harry.

30 September 2001

G'day from Byron Bay

"This is the dawning of the age of Aquarius, Age of Aquarius. Oooooh!" Oh yes, things have gone fab and groovy this week as I'm now at the hippy, happy Arts Factory in Byron Bay. As well as dorms they have a teepee, a yurt and several huts on their own island, plus a ladies-only Secret Garden. We can have reiki massages, do yoga, make didgeridoos and relax in meditation classes. In the spirit of all this alternativity, I'm going for an hour in a float tank tomorrow afternoon. I'm also going to don the scuba gear again and commune with the sharks under Julian Rocks. Like, wow, man!

The path to enlightenment began in Nimbin. This was the site of the first Aquarius Festival in Oz and some people have never left. I was expecting a cool, hippyish hang-out but Nimbin's actually full of seriously scary, totally whacked-out weirdos who roam into town from their treehouses out in the forests, buy large quantities of marijuana and frighten the tourists. They're what the Aussies usually term ferals and Nimbin is feral with a capital F. In fact this whole part of northern New South Wales is a bit odd. With places called Casino, Federal and Bungalow, I reckon the whacky weed has been around for a long time. Byron Bay, on the other hand, is alternative without the grunge and not a bad place at all to spend a few days chilling out which is precisely what I'm doing now. Cool!

My week began in Brisbane, however. I took a bus trip out to the beautiful Lamington National Park via the craft shops and art galleries of Mount Tamborine. I made straight for the treetop boardwalk at O'Reilly's Guesthouse and strolled through the rainforest canopy at eye-level with the birds and beasts. With hindsight I should have taken the regular bus up there and walked the 20km from O'Reilly's to Binna Burra at the other end of the National Park as I'm in love with the rainforest and just can't get enough of it. I stuck my head inside a strangler fig which has completely destroyed its host, leaving the hollow tube of its own winding vines thrusting 30m up to the sunshine. Crazy!

On Monday evening I met my Granny's old schoolfriend, Pat, and her family who also live in Brisbane. I had intended to get back on the Oz bus on Tuesday but they invited me to stay with them so I postponed my onward travel. Pat and I went to see the local Koala Centre and a very cute little specimen called Scruffy, drove down to Cleveland Point to look at the ocean and stopped in at a winery where I sampled a few vintages and got to keep my tasting glass. I reluctantly said farewell to my hosts and rejoined several familiar faces on the Oz bus on Friday. Cosmic, mega thank-yous to Rosey, John and Graham, Pat, Jan and Bob for your kindness, hospitality and friendship while I've been in Brisbane. It was lovely to meet you all and give big kisses to the doggy boys from me.

Must go and crochet a didge cover from hemp and get my aura read now.

Peace, dudes. Be beautiful to each other.

10 October 2001

G'day from Raymond Terrace

I've had to put up with being nicknamed 'Hoppy' lately on account of having sprained my ankle. I'd like to say that I did it doing something exciting like landing a hang-glider, wrestling with an aggressive octopus whilst diving or performing a particularly dangerous fire-dancing stunt at the Arts Factory. The truth, however, is that I fell off the side of a step while going to a lookout on the way to Byron Bay lighthouse. Had I been to the lookout, I'd have seen the most easterly point in Australia. As it was, I had to hobble back the way I'd come with the assistance of three Oz bus mates who ran around trying to get help from the uncooperative ranger at the lighthouse, got me hopping back up the steps, fetched ice for the swelling and called a cab. Then they went out and bought large quantities of alcohol to numb the pain, bless 'em.

Byron Bay has taken a toll on my physical well-being in other ways too. I was savaged by insects of various sorts and developed an allergic reaction to something botanical. What with the hobbling, itching and sneezing, I was in a right state when I got back on the bus on Wednesday.

I had great plans this week to don my Akubra hat, pull on a full-length wax coat and ride around on a horse brandishing a stock whip and learning to be what on sheep and cattle stations is termed a jillaroo (yes, the boys are jackaroos). This was to be out at the Dag Sheep Station near the tiddly town of Nundle. When I turned up there on Thursday I found out that the next three-day jillaroo course wouldn't be happening for a couple of weeks. This was perhaps a blessing as doing the cowgirl thing with a dodgy ankle probably wasn't the best idea but I got to stay on there anyway as a roustabout. In return for changing backpackers' beds, cleaning the mess hall and toilets, serving meals and chopping veggies I had three hearty meals a day and a bed in The Penthouse. Don't be fooled into thinking my accommodation was something posh. This is another fine example of Aussie irony. The Penthouse is, in fact, the back of the shearing shed and stinks of sheep, is draughty, freezing cold and full of vermin. For all that, it has a certain rustic charm and even has its own resident lizards, Buddy and Holly.

I was in the company of a dozen or so other staff, mostly passing-through backpackers like me, plus several dogs, a few cows, numerous horses, 1000 goats, four pigs and a donkey, as well as the 8000 sheep. And not forgetting the busloads of Oz Experience passengers that drop in for sheepdog round-ups, shearing demos and camp-oven cooking five nights a week. Not being able to go for long walks over the hills or ride a mountain bike to Nundle due to my ankle was a bind, but I managed to spend my free afternoons quite happily. I read, caught up on my diary, soaked up the sun, chatted with the other roustabouts or just got mentally lost in the surroundings. The Dag property stretches to all horizons and consists of rolling green hills, scattered trees with white dots of sheep beneath them and a sky that looks like it comes from the beginning of 'The Simpsons' - bright, pale blue with frequent, fluffy cartoon clouds. The sun shone for the entire five days I was there, although a vicious cold wind made sitting out unbearable for a couple of days. Still, I could snuggle under my duvet on the platform at the back of the shearing shed and just enjoy the vibrant peace of a rural Australian spring.

I'm now in the Hunter Valley, another premier wine-growing region, prior to completing my eight-month circuit of the eastern half of Australia back in Sydney.

17 October 2001

G'day from Sydney

I now have something of the feeling of what it was like to listen to Neville Chamberlain in 1939 announcing Britain's involvement in World War II. Prime Minister, John Howard, has just been on ABC radio declaring his commitment of Australian troops and equipment to the war against terrorism in Afghanistan. This being so, I'd guess that Osama Bin-Laden will soon be adding Australia to his list of potential targets, as he's just done with the UK, which is a less than encouraging thought. I'm also keeping an eye in the situation in Indonesia where anti-US demonstrations have been going on this week. Bali, so far, is unaffected and isn't likely to be as it's not Muslim, but as I'm intending to go there in about six weeks time, I'll be keeping a close watch on the news.

However, life goes on. Tomorrow I'll be boarding the legendary Indian-Pacific train to Perth. This is a 4352km journey which takes three days and nights and brings home just how big Australia is. For the price of a plane fare from Sydney to London, I get a berth in a twin cabin, clean towels and bed linen every day, use of the Red Kangaroo lounge, restaurant and diner, and a constantly-changing view of outback Australia. It's one of the world's great train journeys and I'm getting childishly excited about it.

Sydney felt reassuringly familiar when I arrived here after tasting my way through the vineyards of the Hunter Valley and exploring the pleasant city of Newcastle. I thought eight months of seeing and doing would have dulled my memories of Sydney but that wasn't the case. I can still find my way around without a map and remember where the places are that I need to go. It was sad leaving the Oz Experience bus for the last time as I've had a lot of fun travelling round on it, seen some beautiful places and made good friends amongst my fellow passengers. Appropriately enough, I recently bumped into my very first Oz driver, Jason, which contributed to the feeling of having come full circle.

I've also been catching up with two of my fellow Arnhem Land volunteers. I stayed with Michelle and her lovely dog, Mimi, in the Hunter Valley and I'm now on Sydney's north shore with John and his family sorting out administrative things and preparing to head west. Yesterday I managed to catch up on the one thing I didn't do in February and that was to check out Manly. This is a beachside suburb with a shark-filled aquarium, good fish and chips and lots of musclebound surfers.

It's time to get my washing out of the machine and hang it out to dry, so I'll catch up with you all next week from Western Australia.

24 October 2001

G'day from Kalamunda

Brown is the new black and Wednesday is the new Sunday. New state, new time zone, new day for emailing.

Perth is nearer to Singapore than it is to Sydney and it certainly feels like a long way when you spend three days on a train to get here. The Indian-Pacific is a long, sleek, silver snake of a train with three classes of passenger. The real budget option is sitting up night and day in an aeroplane-style seat and is no fun at all according to all the people I spoke to toughing it out at the cheap end of the train. I went for the middle class option of a cabin so at least I got to lie down at night and had the enviable bonus of free tea and coffee. These two classes combined make up the Red Kangaroo service. Those with more dollars to throw around get the top-notch Gold Kangaroo service - champagne reception, tea in bed in the morning, a la carte dining, private bathrooms and doilies on the sideplates. By the way, for those who have read 'Down Under', Bill Bryson was fibbing - they don't lock the door in between Red and Gold Kangaroo so I had a sneaky look for myself at how the other half lives.

The train makes a few stops for leg stretches and I took the optional hour-long tours of Broken Hill and Kalgoorlie. These are both mining towns in the middle of the red nothingness of the Outback and each of them has the strange, fiercely self-contained ambience of extreme isolation. Kalgoorlie's highlights include the Super Pit gold mine which is 4kms long, 1km wide, 600m deep and can be seen from space, and the tin shed brothels somewhat akin to starting stalls on a racetrack which are still alive and well in Hay Street. I've also seen the hotel in Broken Hill which is the setting for the infamous ping-pong ball scene in 'Priscilla, Queen of the Desert'. For those who haven't seen it, I'm not about the explain as there might be children reading this.

Scenically, the big highlight of the journey is the Nullarbor Plain. It is aptly named as it really does have no trees. The few casuarinas that have managed to gain a roothold on the inhospitable limestone are spindly and stunted at best. Otherwise, all you can see for hundreds of kilometres is an endless expanse of red dirt, clumps of greyish-green saltbush and scrubby grass, overarched by a vast, empty sky. Through this runs the longest straight piece of train track in the world; 700km without a single curve. We also passed through the dense greenery of the Blue Mountains, the fertile Adelaide Plain, the true kangaroo country of South Australia and the prairies of the Western Australia Wheatlands. Each morning I had the excitement of raising the blind by my bed to an entirely different landscape.

I met a disparate group of people killing the hours of travel in the Red Kangaroo lounge by making new friends, sharing a beer and a card game. There was a retired couple from the boondocks in Canada touring the country, an American on holiday from his IT job in Sydney, an ex-pat ex-haridresser from London returning to her family in Perth, a Kiwi family moving away from Sydney in case of terrorist attacks and a young Aussie looking for work in the mines in Kalgoorlie. I've since seen half a dozen people I recognise from the train roaming around Perth. The city itself is a pretty one and distinctly affluent-looking with its prime waterfront real estate and imposing skyline. For all that it still has the laidback country town feel that I experienced in Brisbane. I'm now staying out in a northern satellite of the city with a family friend from New Zealand and her husband and kids.

I've spent the last couple of days visiting Rotto and Freo. The Australians have the peculiar habit of abbreviating as many words as possible and adding an O on the end. My theory is that they do it so that they don't have to open their mouths long enough for the flies to get in, but I could be wrong. Anyway, I digress. Rotto is more formally known as Rottnest Island and is a few miles offshore from the city. It is a stunning place to spend the day with its little sandy coves, shallow bays of brilliantly blue sea, craggy cliffs and abundant wildlife. I saw the island's famous quokkas which are cute little marsupials resembling mini kangaroos. There are no cars on the island making it wonderfully peaceful and the perfect place to walk or cycle around. I took the hourly bus that provides a hop-on, hop-off service and spent a very pleasant few hours taking photos, strolling from one gorgeous beach to the next and simply taking in the kind of rugged beauty I haven't seen since Arnhem Land.

Freo is known to the rest of the world as Fremantle and is Perth's port. Aside from an impressive set of container docks, it also has some fine turn-of-the-century architecture, lots of shops and restaurants and a large, now disused, prison. I spent an interesting couple of hours there this afternoon finding out all about this convict-built jailhouse where prisoners still had to slop out right up until its closure in 1991. For some reason I never determined, all the tour guides there are English and one of them has a wife from Tonbridge so I had to stay longer especially to talk to him and tell him what the town's like since she left many years ago. She even went to the same school as me. Small world.

See you next Wednesday.

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