In case you hadn’t noticed, I am now back in America. Oregon, to be exact.

So let’s see… Tane took me to the Brisbane airport at 8.00 am on 26 December, 2007. My flight departed at 11.45, and after hopping quickly down to Sydney to catch my international flight to LAX, I arrived safely in California at 9.00 am, 26 December, 2007. Huzzah for the International Date Line! And no, Charlie, it’s not a telephone number that you can call to get hooked up with “Hott Asian Girrrrrlz.”

Anyway, I had a long layover in LAX while I waited for my flight to Portland, and after arriving in Portland (where my absolutely amazing dad and superbly wonderful sister Christine were waiting for me), I then drove the three hours home. In the snow. Talk about climate change. Anyway, so all up, it was just about 38 hours from Brisbane to home. I don’t plan to be doing that again any time soon, thank you.

So there. Being back stateside has made me realise just how much I missed my family and friends and has certainly put this whole “living internationally” thing into perspective. More on that later.

But for now, I would just like to let everyone in the States know that I am home and ready to catch up, and I’d like to let all of my new Aussie friends know that I miss you all very much and think about you daily. I’d also like to add that if I were to delete all of my “Friends” on MySpace and Facebook who never emailed me or bothered returning the emails that I sent them whilst in Australia, I would be left with my family and the following individuals: James, Charlie, Janna, Keenan, Lisa, Stephanie, Aileen, Craig, Sabrina, Whitney, Liz, Roger, Justin, and Rachel. In SIX MONTHS. That’s just over two people per month. So, thank you to the fourteen people who remembered me!

Soooo.  You might have watched the videos, and you might have seen the photos, but nevertheless, allow me to enlighten you with the gripping drama of the Moreton Death March.

It all started about a month ago when my mate Tane mentioned that some friends of his were organizing a bushwalking weekend on Moreton Island.  Ever eager to get some experience doing things off the mountain, I asked if I could come along and he said “But of course!”

Now, we both had it in our minds that we would go to the island for a nice, relaxing bushwalk with maybe some snorkeling and a barbie at the end.  What waited for us was nothing short of a nightmare.  Yes.  That’s right.  A nightmare.

To start off with, the people who planned the route decided that 48 kilometres would be the prefect length.  And, they didn’t bother learning how to read topographic maps before selecting the route.  And, they didn’t tell us what the route was so we could investigate on our own time.  And, they didn’t check to make sure that there was potable water at any of the campsites that we would be passing.  And, they didn’t take into account the age and medical condition of all of the members of the walking party.

So Day One of The Moreton Death March…

Got off the ferry on the western side of the island at 1000, started walking immediately.  Proceeded 19 kilometres through ankle-deep, soft sand while carrying a 20Kg pack and wearing Chacos.  Arrived at beach on eastern side by 1700, then proceeded north along beach (hooray compacted sand!) to designated camping site (Eagers Creek), 2 kilometres away.  By now we were out of water, and upon arriving at Eagers Creek found it to be dry.  As a bone.  Having no other option, we continued north along the beach for another 7 kilometres and arrived at the Blue Lagoon campsite by 1930, an hour after dark.  Exhausted, we made camp and quickly ate and fell asleep to the melodious sounds of blistered feet and aching backs.

Day Two, The Moreton Death March:

Woke up at 0500, broke camp, and got walking by 0615. Not a bad way to start the day, watching the sunrise over the ocean, but still aching, dehydrated, and moderately irritated at the planning of the trip. Seven kilometres north to the lighthouse on packed sand, and then 14 kilometres back to the ferry sloshing through deep, loose sand. Oh, and about 300 metres of that was off track through thick heath because of ANOTHER planning error. I tell you, these folks had absolutely no appreciation for maps! Anyway, trudging along through the sand, and a police truck comes up behind us bearing one of our walking party who had fallen behind. At this point, we still had about 8 kilometres to go, and we were all pretty sure that he would have been hospitalised had he continued in the condition he was in. Tane and I wisely removed water from our packs and tossed them into the back of the truck and happily limped on, 20Kg lighter each. Arrived back at the ferry by 1400, having completed 48 kilometres in 28 hours.

So let this be a lesson to you, fair reader. If you want to let somebody else plan YOUR holiday, make sure they’ve got some freakin’ credentials, and make sure that their motivations are similar to yours. Because otherwise, you’ll find yourself in the rain, pushing through dense, thorny bushes while wearing sandals and shorts. So be ye warned.

I got three consecutive days off the other week, and needing a bit of an escape from the confines of the guesthouse I booked two nights in one of the campgrounds on Moreton Island. It’s situated off the coast of Brisbane about 35 kilometres out, and it’s the third largest sand island in the world. Anyway, the western coast of the island is quite protected, and there are about 11 ships that have been sunk only about 75 metres off the beach in an attempt to form an artificial reef. Well, the attempt worked, and it was right by those wrecks (called “The Wrecks) that I camped. And snorkeled. And watched birds. And it was faaaaaaaaaaaaaabulous. But more than anything, it was just a very welcome relaxation that I needed very badly. There’s just something almost spiritual about floating motionless in the waves and watching all the blue wrasses and sharks and stingrays and manta rays and porcupine fish and wobbegongs gather silently about you. I enjoyed that trip. Anyway, this is what I say while I was there.

BIRDS:
Whistling Kite
Brahminy Kite
Common Starling
Rainbow Bee Eater
Brown Honeyeater
White-Throated Honeyeater
Forest Kingfisher
Beach Stone Curlew
Bush Stone Curlew
Noisy Friarbird
Silver Gull
Australian Pelican
Pied Cormorant

MARINE LIFE:
Bottlenose Dolphin
Wobbegong (Sand Shark)
Tiger Shark
Blue Wrasse
Sergeant Major
Butter Bream
Silver Bream
Three-Striped Porcupine Fish
Manta Ray
Common Stinguree
Hardhead
Sea Turtle
Dugong

Hey there!  I’ve finally gotten around to posting some photos under the Pictures! page.  Navigate to them by clicking on the Pictures! link, yo.

Oh, and enjoy…

Yes, yes, I am aware that I mixed a couple languages in the title, but hey, isn’t that what English is all about!??!?

So let’s see… After a long stint at work, I was given the chance to go down the mountain to Brisbane yesterday! Huzzah for that, mang! So I wound up staying with my friend Tane (pronounced “tah-nay:” it’s Maori) in Logan, which is a suburb of Brisbane. We got in after dark Thursday afternoon, so we just went to his place and enjoyed a few beers. Today, on the other hand, was quite action-packed.

First off, we went on a big long walk through Daisy Hill State Forest which, incidentally, is Australia’s largest koala sanctuary. While there, I got to see my first wild koala. QUITE cute, I must say. Did you know that they sleep 20 hours per day? Also, did you know that there is only specie of them? I didn’t either. Oh, and they roar. Well, more appropriately, they bellow. Check it out.

After that we went up to Mount Coot-Tha and overlooked Brisbane as the sun set. On the way back down the mountain, I spotted a feathertail glider. I felt quite privileged, considering that Tane hadn’t seen one in about 6 years or more, and he’s a guide.

So yeah, I head back to O’Reilly’s tomorrow for more fun in the rainforest. However, before I go, a quick funny story!

So I have already talked about strangler figs, and if you haven’t read that post, click here. Now that you know about strangler figs, may I continue? Thanks. Once upon a few days ago, I was leading a group of British tourists on a tour, and I took a moment to point out that there was a lily growing on an epiphytic fern which was growing on a strangler fig which, in turn, was growing on a host. Essentially, it was a hemiphyte on an epiphyte on a parasite on a host. I explained this to my pommie guests, and the dad (ever the quintessential British guy) shook his head in disgust and scoffed, in high British fashion, that the whole situation “was thoroughly immoral.” Immoral. I nearly burst out laughing right in his face.

Oh well. Poor pohms.

Okay everyone! I’m off to bed now! Cheers!

I watched the sunrise over the South Pacific yesterday.  From a surfboard.  Eat your heart out.

7-06-2007

I surfed in the South Pacific today. ‘Nuff said.

So yeah, Faithful Reader, if you get the chance to travel to Australia, for the love of God and all that is holy, don’t go to Surfers Paradise. At least, not if you want a genuinely Australian experience. I found Surfers Paradise to be a near facsimile of Miami, which, in plain English, means that it is
1) hectic
2) heavily commercialized, and
3) full of both
a) loud Americans and
b) electronic-laden Asians who
i) walk on the wrong side of the sidewalk and
ii) insist on
(1) stopping frequently and abruptly when they’re walking directly in front of you and
(2) buying jumpers that say “Australia” across the front.

Yeah, Australians (unlike Americans) typically don’t advertise their own country WHEN THEY’RE STILL IN IT, so it’s fairly easy to spot a foreign tourist here.

Otherwise, the weather was great and the ocean is bee-ee-ay-yutiful. Oh! Hahaha!!! I nearly forgot! So, I was the only person that I could see who wasn’t wearing a wetsuit to surf in. In water that was at least 70 degrees. In fact, there was even one bloke wearing (seriously!) a neoprene hood with his full wetsuit. And booties. I, on the other hand, wore board shorts. And a watch. Suffice to say, the crowd of people who had gathered on the beach certainly weren’t gawking at me for my surfing abilities. I’m sure that they thought either that I was completely crazy or that I was some form of deity descended from heaven itself. I’m going to go with the latter…

So that’s the story with Surfers Paradise. I’m going to get up tomorrow at 6:00 to catch the tide, so I’ll sign off for tonight. Cheers!