Travel Logbook

Leconfield Jackaroo School, Tamworth: 17th-21st January.

In Tamworth I had booked onto a 5 day course at the Leconfield Jackaroo school, where I was going to learn to be a cowboy. On the monday morning we were met by Tim & Julia from the school, who took us first to the local charity shop to buy some old clothes, then more importantly to the bottle shop to stock up on beer for the week.

After that they drove us out to Leconfield, half an hour from Tamworth and set in an idyllic valley nestled amongst steep wooded hills. After us students had settled into our bunkhouse we got straight onto lesson 1: how to groom & saddle a horse. First of all though we were allocated a four legged friend to work with for the week. I was given Coco, an 18 year old bloke horse who was always more intent on munching grass than cooperating with anything I asked him to do. After we'd been shown how to groom our horse, check his spine, clean his hooves and blow his nose, we saddled up and mounted our steeds. Tim then showed us how to make the horse move forwards, backwards, left and right, turn round in circles, raise his head and lower his head. Everything except how to stop him from eating grass. Once we had the general idea we set off on a leisurely 3 hour ride around the Leconfield ranges, finishing up at a swimming hole where we went for a refreshing dip. Back at the ranch, last job of the day was to unsaddle the horses then wash them down and give them a grooming before walking them back to their field for the night.

Next morning, after fetching, grooming and saddling the horses, we started off with a lesson in Natural Horsemanship. This is a school of thought in horse training developed by an American bloke called Monty Roberts, the original horse whisperer. It all seems to be based on working the predator-prey relationship that man has with his horse to teach the horse to obey instructions. Tim demonstrated various techniques and had an impressive level of control over his own horse. The results were less spectacular when he encouraged us to practice the techniques on our horses. Coco seemed to like the "friendly game" which basically consisted of me petting him, but my attempts to get him to move, raise his head etc by means of Natural Horsemanship just made him all the more determined to eat grass.

The rest of the morning we spent on a ride then in the afternoon we were shown how to milk Cowie the cow, and discovered the delights of drinking warm milk straight from the teat. We also learnt how to crack a whip, throw a lassoo and shoe a horse. After that we rounded up some sheep with the help of Tim's dogs, then picked one out to be sheared. The unfortunate individual was bundled into the back of a ute along with us students and taken to the shearing shed. There we were shown how to shear a sheep and had a quick go at doing it ourselves.

Back at the ranch we got into the serious business of slaughtering a couple of sheep for dinner. Comic relief was first provided by Pieter, whose job it was to put Cowie into her field for the night. She was having none of it, however, and gave Pieter a bit of a run around...

When it was time to select the sheep to be killed, we singled two animals out of the flock, and they must have known what was coming because as soon as we tried to corner the first one it jumped clean over the paddock fence and ran off up the field. We eventually tackled it down but it was the same story when we tried to grab the second as well. Billy, who was Tim's right hand man, supervised as Brendan and Michael, two backpackers working on the farm, killed the sheep by simultaneously slitting the throats and breaking the necks. Not a pretty sight but to my relief it was all over quickly and the sheep didn't make any noise. We carried the dead sheep down to the ranch and Billy supervised while Brendan and Michael skinned and gutted the carcasses.

The next day, wednesday, was a bit less hectic. For me it started at 5.30am as it was my turn to help milk Cowie. After breakfast we set out to do some "range improvement" which basically consisted of pulling big yellow weeds out of the fields for an hour or so before we all collapsed in a heap under the shade of a gum tree. The afternoon we spent hacking away at some blackberry bushes that had overgrown a fence. Hard, hot work in the 35 degree New South Wales heat, it served to dispel any romantic notions we were getting about the life of a Jackaroo. We at least got to eat lots of juicy blackberries though.

Thursday began with another lesson in Natural Horsemanship and then we set out on horseback to muster the cattle. We split up into groups of four and headed off in various directions over the hills with the aim of driving the cattle into pens at the bottom of a valley. As we got them close we formed into a semi-circle and guided the herds into the pens. The next job, having dismounted, was to separate the cows from their calves which we did with the aid of big sticks and lots of yee-ha-ing. Once that was done we got into the serious business of the lassoo competition. Blokes vs Sheilas, each person had two attempts to lassoo a moving calf around the neck. Alas, all the practicing I'd put in proved to be a complete waste of time as I failed totally on both attempts, as did all the blokes. An embarrassing 5-0 win for the girls.

Next up was the calf wrestling. The idea was, working in pairs, for one person to grab the hindquarters and the other to grab the head and twist it so the calf was staring at its own bum, then to lift and throw the calf and hence pin it to the ground. Of course it sounds simple but isn't quite so easy in practice. Especially when the calf knows that all it has to do is tread on your toes to put you right off the idea of wrestling it... Hard work but great fun.

Once we'd all had a go, Brendan and Michael grabbed a calf and once they had it down, Billy set to work. First he demonstrated how to castrate the calf. Very quick; slit, pull, chop...slit, pull, chop...all over. Next was the ear tag, a big plastic tag fired between the cartilage ridges of the calf's ear. Finally the ear mark, which on Tim's station just simply involved chopping a large part of the right ear off. Just when the poor calf must have been thinking he couldn't possibly be violated any further, someone remembered the brand. Of all the agonies inflicted on that wretched animal, the brand was the only thing that made him cry out. Once it was all over he was let out to join his mum, looking, understandably, a bit shell-shocked.

That evening we were sat around the camp fire enjoying our billy tea when Tim came round with a tray of what he called "hors d'oeuvres". I asked what they were and Tim said they were yabbies (crayfish) his sons had caught in the creek. Always willing to try something new, I ate a piece and was surprised to find that yabby tasted like beef. The penny didn't drop until Pieter took a bite of his yabby and cried out "Steere kloter!" which is Flemish for "cow's testacles!". The penny finally dropped with a heavy clang in my belly...

For the final day of the course we were back on the horses. We took them back to the waterhole from day one but on the way we came across a highly venemous Brown Snake blocking our path. Tim decided to kill it and we roasted it over a fire at lunchtime and ate it. It tasted a lot like thin, leathery chicken. Once at the waterhole we took the saddles off the horses then, riding bareback in our swimmers, we rode them into the deepest part of the river, swimming alongside the horse while holding onto the mane before climbing back on as it left the water. After that we did some trotting and cantering along the road out of Leconfield. He may have been a bit grumpy at times, and didn't cope with hills very well, but fair play to Coco, he sure loved to run fast and did so with very little encouragement. We finished the day off with some relay races on horseback to put our new skills into practice.

So, as the sun sank low in the western sky we rode back down the hill to the farmstead in the valley for the last time. I washed Coco down, gave him a good rub and pulled some of his favourite willow leaves off Tim's tree for him to munch on. Then I led him back to his field, took his bridle off for the final time and said goodbye as I let him go. Was it my imagination or was there a tear in his eye as he turned away and found a juicy clump of grass to munch? No, it was my imagination.

That night we headed back into Tamworth and a few of us went out for drinks. Tamworth is Australia's answer to Nashville, and it just happened that the Country Music Festival was on. The town was full of urban cowboys wearing ten gallon hats that had never seen the sun and cowboy boots that had never stepped in dust. I'm afraid country music makes me physically sick, I find there's something very unsettling about the whole scene, but the town was fairly lively and the bars were packed. Too packed in fact for my liking and after one beer I was all set to go home until Michael insisted we start a round of shooters. I decided I'd stay for one drink, hell why not two, oh is that the third already??? Soon it was my turn to put my short arms into my deep pockets but I didn't know what to buy. Brendan suggested I get a round of "Cement Mixers" - a shot of Baileys followed into the mouth by a shot of lime juice, hold for five seconds then swallow the cement. Pieter insisted it would stick in our throats and kill us all, but it actually went down very nicely... Then it was Trine's shout, and we all sneered when she bought a girlie round of straight Southern Comforts. But she had a twist for us - first to swallow had to shout the next round. More than five minutes we stood there with that bloody stuff in our mouths while our teeth dissolved. My mouth was still numb next morning...

Brisbane to Mackay via Fraser Island: 22nd January-2nd February.

Next day I took the bus to Brisbane where I spent a day and a half before continuing up the Queensland coast to Hervey Bay to make the trip across to Fraser Island, the largest sand island in the world. I decided to go on a three day self-drive 4WD package with Koala's Backpackers. I was put in a group with 8 other travellers, we were given a Toyota 4WD, a ferry ticket and camping equipment, then we were let loose on the island. Things got off to a bad start when there was some confusion over who was navigating and where we were supposed to be going and we ended up an hour in the wrong direction. We made the most of it by buying ice-creams at a shop we shouldn't have been at, then went back the way we'd come.

Mike was the driver as we went uphill through deep sand. We got slower and slower until we ground to a halt, wheels spinning uselessly. "OK, everyone out" said Mike so we all piled out to give him more of a chance of getting the Landcruiser moving again. But it was no use, no matter how hard he tried and how hard we pushed , the car was stuck fast. Neil had a go and Mireken but they couldn't shift it either. So I said "Step aside", got in the driver's seat, backed it up a little then into first, steady revs and a clutch just beyond the bite and off we went - no worries mate.

We carried on then to Lake Wabby, a beautiful, warm, deep lake sitting at the bottom of a huge sand dune. We had a swim for a while then carried on along the sand tracks through the centre of the island, passing from steamy lowland rainforest, up to a drier brackenated area before coming down again and onto the east beach. We drove northwards along hard wet sand, slowing just to cross the numerous streams that flowed out from the island's interior.

Next morning we had to get up fairly early as it was only possible to drive on the beach a couple of hours either side of low tide, which at the time was unhelpfully early in the morning and late in the afternoon. We got as far north as Indian Head before turning back and heading south again. We stopped for lunch on the beach and amused ourselves playing Sticky Mud and other games I haven't played since I was six. Later on we headed down the beach again. We drove for a couple of hours, through an intense rainstorm, to the south of the island. Eventually we reached the point where we had to leave the beach and head back inland. There was deep sand on the way off the beach and for a second time we got bogged down. This time we also had an audience of other vehicles to witness our misfortune. We all piled out again and Mike, who was driving, tried to get the thing moving again but couldn't. Everyone shouted "Phil!" so I jumped in and gave it the old smooth treatment. I drove it up onto the harder sand above the beach and the rest of the group rushed up to congratulate me again; kisses from the girls and a puzzled "How the hell?" from Mike.

We camped for the night, along with most of the other groups from Koala's, at a campsite in the centre of the island. It was pouring with rain as we put the tents up and we decided to use our spare tarpaulin to erect a rain shelter over our kitchen area. The other groups looked on in amusement as we struggled to get the shelter built, and as soon as we were done the bloody rain stopped anyway.

Next day we drove down to Lake Mackenzie where we spent three hours swimming and mucking around in the midday sun. Because the lakes on Fraser Island are very delicate ecosystems, it's forbidden to wear sunscreen when you swim in them. Unfortunately the three hours we spent in the lake were right around midday and I got painfully sunburnt, so much so that for a week I couldn't put my backpack on without gritting my teeth.

Had I been your typical east coast backpacker, after Fraser Island I would have returned to Hervey Bay, spent a couple of nights getting drunk then hopped on an Oz Experience bus to Airlie Beach for more sun, sand, beer and the other activity that backpackers are famous for. Well, I did go back to Hervey Bay and I did get drunk (some vague memories of dancing on tables) but my next destination was the small town of Mackay. From there I hired a car for 24 hours and drove out to Eungella National Park. The park is a great place to spot platypuses in the wild and, sure enough, when I went down to the viewing platform over the Broken River at dusk I saw three of the strange little animals paddling around and diving down to dabble for food, trailing streams of tiny bubbles as they did so.

That night I slept in the hire car at a campsite next to the river. I got a little fire going and while I sat there in the dark, staring at the flames and discovering how dull it is to camp on your own, a possum came ambling out of the bush, right past me, and up onto the picnic table at which I was sitting. He was making straight for my food bag but froze when I shone my torch in his eyes. There was an uneasy silence for a few moments as we sized each other up, but the intruder backed down, and with a sniff turned around and headed off into the darkness.

Townsville & Cairns: 3rd-17th February.

My next stop after Mackay was Townsville, where I hoped to get a cheap standby deal on a diving trip to the wreck of the SS Yongala, said to be Australia's best dive. I couldn't get a deal straightaway though and as my time in Oz was starting to run short I booked myself onto a three day trip with ProDive, leaving on the 14th of February. ProDive's rate was so cheap it beat the standby prices with the other two operators anyway - and I was to find out why when I eventually went out on the trip.

So from Townsville I carried on up to Cairns, looking to do more diving. This time I wanted to go to Cod Hole, a site famous for a family of large Potato Cod that rise up from the depths to greet divers and be fed by the dive operators. Again I hoped to get a standby deal but I found a tour agent on the esplanade offering trips at standby rates. So I booked on a three day/night trip with Rum Runner on board Reef Explorer to Cod Hole and out beyond the Barrier Reef to the Coral Sea. I had three days to wait before the boat was due to sail so in the meantime I took a two day tour up the coast towards Cape Tribulation. On the way we had a short cruise on the Daintree River, where we saw plenty of birdlife and lots of logodiles, but unfortunately no crocodiles.

I stayed the night at a YHA hostel set in the rainforest at a place called Cow Bay (I didn't actually make it as far as Cape Trib). The hostel was a collection of permanent tent-hut things, very rustic but a beautiful place to stay. While there I went for a walk in the rainforest which certainly lived up to its name. Actually it had rained almost constantly since I'd arrived in Cairns; the wet season had just arrived, late, and seemed intent on making up for lost time.

Back in Cairns, the weather showed no signs of improvement by the time I left on the diving trip to Cod Hole. Of course, rain is no deterrent to a diver but the wind was too strong and the sea too rough, the crew explained, for us to go out into the Coral Sea. So instead we would dive Cod Hole first then work our way back down the outer reef to Cairns. I wonder whether it really was too rough to go out, or if it was just a bit bumpy and the crew didn't fancy it...I never place much faith in dive crews, even when they're as seemingly well-intentioned as the crew of Reef Explorer.

We did two dives at Cod Hole but the famed giant cods failed to show up either time. We got one smallish cod and a big Napoleon wrasse but I was disappointed. We did do some good dives as we made our way along the reef back to Cairns, and I saw some big Grey Reef sharks, but the lack of cod, our failure to go out into the Coral Sea, and the continuing miserable weather, all added up to a disappointing trip. One thing I certainly couldn't complain about was the attitude of the crew; the amount of diving they offered us was superb and I did five dives on the second day of the trip. The food was delicious too.

When I got back to Cairns I met up with Scott and Heather, the couple I had met in the Perhentian Islands in Malaysia, way back in June. It was good to see them after such a long time, catch up with news and have a look at their photos. Although I had a spare day before my dive trip in Townsville, and would have liked to spend it with Scott & Heather, I decided to move down to Townsville a day early as the rains had been so heavy the bus companies had been cancelling services due to floods. The weather improved instantly as soon as I got out of Cairns; by the time we got to Mission Beach about an hour south, there were blue skies, and in Townsville next day there wasn't a cloud to be seen.

On the monday I turned up at the ProDive shop at 7.30am ready for departure. We set off at quarter to eight, and it was immediately clear how ProDive could offer the trip so cheaply. On the boat were eight Open Water students, four Advanced students and five fun divers. And to cover all these divers? One instructor, no divemasters. I wasn't bothered about diving without a dive guide (considering myself an experienced diver now) but I was concerned for the students, especially the Advanced students who ended up doing most of their qualification dives among themselves with no instructor.

Further clues to ProDive's cheap rates came from the lack of an air reservoir on board, meaning all the tanks had to be charged straight from the compressor. This would take forever of course but for the tiny 8-litre tanks they chose to give us, meaning short dive times. Also the crew declined to give us any breakfast despite the early start, and when Christine, one of my buddies, asked for some bread the captain bit her head off, saying we hadn't paid for breakfast on this trip! Despite all this, the diving was good. They took us to some beautiful reefs with fantastic coral growth, plenty of whitetip reef sharks, and even a baby manta ray. The weather was good and the crowd of backpackers on the boat made it an enjoyable trip.

On the morning of the third and final day we arrived at the site of the Yongala, in heavy seas and rain. People were being sick and the crew decided we'd only make one dive on the wreck instead of the planned two, which to be fair was probably the right decision. The wreck lies between 22m and 30m down, and diving on tables as we were, we were limited to a bottom time of just 25 minutes. But what a 25 minutes it was! The wreck was literally carpeted with glassfish, so thick you could hardly see the metal hull of the ship. Big jacks were swooping in to chase their prey, overhead a huge school of barracuda was hanging while just off the wreck collossal Queensland gropers, maybe 2.5m long, were lurking. It was all over too quickly but I can safely say it was the best dive I did in Australia. I'd like to go back some day with a Nitrox course under my belt so I can spend longer down there exploring this incredible site.

All that was left to be done, then, was take a 20-hour bus ride back to Brisbane to catch my flight to Auckland. Three months in Australia really cleaned out my savings but it was worth it. I'm disappointed to say that in all that time I didn't hear anyone say "cobber" or "strewth", but I did get to throw a shrimp on a barbie and I did meet plenty of people called Bruce.