The Great Australian Road Trip, Part III

DAY 3: 14 April
For breakfast the next day Ben and I made matzo bry.  (Until now we had been avoiding such extravagant uses of poorbread in order to ensure we'd have enough, but it was the last day and we had plenty left.)  I forgot how much I love matzo bry.

We asked some people who were launching their boat what there is to do in Rockhampton.  Not too much, apparently, but they suggested we drive by a bunch of old buildings on the other side of the river and then drive up Mt. Archer, which overlooks the city.  The old Victorian buildings were not very exciting, to be honest, but Mt. Archer was a different story...

Due to the jankmobile's rather pathetic powertrain, I had to put it in low gear to climb the steep, windy road to Mt. Archer.  As we got higher, the vistas got better and better.  At the top, we walked to two different overlooks, from which we could see the entire valley containing the tiny city of Rocky and its suburbs.  For the billionth time, I came to the realization that Australia is beautiful--it's funny how that feeling never gets old.  Being careful not to fall down the cliff, we took a self portrait and just hung out for a bit to admire the view.

Rockhampton and its suburbs, as seen from Mt. Archer

Ben and his bravery.

To one side there was  a city.  To the other, more mountains.

Ben drove on the way down, which was good and bad.  Bad because it was wicked scary to have my life in someone else's hands like that, but good because I didn't have to do it.  Of course, he drove fine--a little faster than I would have, maybe, but without incident.  But the car, jeez!  You've never experienced brake fade until you've driven down a twisty mountain road in a crappy rental car.  A car that, I must remind you, had no airbags.  But hey, a little adrenaline is good for you once in a while!

[Savta, you presumed correctly we must have said tefilat ha'derech with a lot of kavana after reading about the jankmobile.  Indeed, on the first day, when Ben was looking for my camera, he came across the little tefilat ha'derech card I keep in one of the pockets in my backpack and we decided to say it together.  That was certainly one of the better decisions I've ever made.  I'm glad I believe in God.]

With a new appreciation for our lives, Ben and I got back on the road and drove--you guessed it!--south.  Our trajectory was toward Bundaberg, a city Ben had heard of it that was supposed to contain a house made completely out of Beer bottles.  On the way, though, we saw a sign for "Lake Awoonga Recreation Area."  Figuring both of us like to recreate (who doesn't?), we made one of the best detours of the entire trip.

Lake Awoonga was formed--or at least enlarged--by a dam.  It's mass of blue water is surrounded on all sides by mountains.  When we saw the first lookout, we had a simultaneous "holy shit" moment and rushed down towards the beach for a swim.  A much needed swim, I might add, for a couple of funky-smelling travelers like ourselves.  We swam to a floating dock about 150 meters out (a firm reminder that I am out of shape) and practiced dives and flips.  I'm not sure why it took me so long to pass swimming level 5 at summer camp, because I'm actually a pretty decent diver nowadays.  Between the views and the water, this must be one of the most refreshing swimming spots on earth.  I honestly could have stayed on that dock all day, but, alas, we had to get back on the road.

Lake Awoonga.  Yes, it's as nice as it looks.

In one word, Bundaberg was disappointing.  There didn't seem to be very many people around when we got in at about 5.  We asked a couple people our age if they'd heard of the house made out of beer bottles, or if they knew anything fun to do.  Long story short, the beer bottle house doesn't exist, and there is nothing to do in Bundaberg.  Oh, well.  Figuring this would be a good opportunity to make up some ground, we did another long stint of driving.  Our destination: Brisbane, the capital of Queensland.

Our NASCAR-style mobile hydration system.

Wicked Campers, which also rents jankmobiles, decorates its fleet with crazy spray paint.  Each one has a lewdly funny and often wildly inappropriate phrase or joke written on the back...  (Sorry in advance if this joke is in bad taste!)

We were passing through a small town at sundown when we realized Passover was now officially over.  To celebrate the end of the celebration we thought of the most appropriate celebratory food in the world: beer--bread in liquid form--the ultimate passover-ending and l'chaim-making beverage.  So we popped into a small [and rather sad] pub for a one drink.  My stomach, full of matzo, expanded like a balloon when the liquid arrived, and I walked out of there looking like an oompa-loompa.  Me and my huge gut got back in the van and we headed for Brisbane.

We got to Brisbane at around 10 or 11.  Pretty late, but being a Saturday night this was an ideal time to arrive in a city.  My first impressions of Brisbane--well, what little part of it we saw--were that it's small, just big enough to be considered a major city, but adequate for our objective: to party.  We parked the jankmobile in a parking garage.  Believe it or not, since there was a possibility we wouldn't be able to drive we actually planned on sleeping in the garage.  (Luckily that wouldn't be the case.)  We jumped into more appropriate clothing and emerged into the muggy streets of Brisbane.

Since we had no idea where to go, we tagged along to a bar with a group of people (a couple years younger than us) we met on the street.  It wasn't a very fun place, though, so Ben and I left after a little while to find a better place, which came in the form of a downstairs Irish joint with a decent atmosphere.  So we took our talents to the dance floor for a while and had a good time.  Last call was pretty early, though (earlier than Boston, even), so eventually we left to find food.  Brisbane CBD has a big pedestrian-only street running through the middle where there are plenty of late-night eateries, a pretty handy feature on a Saturday night, where we ran into these two Scotish girls who we'd seen at the pub.  We attempted to find out what they were up to for the rest of the night, but with their thick accents I had absolutely no idea what they were saying.  As far as I'm concerned, Scotish English is a completely different language.  I honestly think it would have been easier to understand this girl if she was speaking Italian.  Oh, well.

In Brisbane we witnessed two semi-fights, both of which I found highly amusing.  Both involved chaotic groups of drunk people slapping and swinging at each other like little kids.  Neither fight was anything serious, I assure you, otherwise I might have made an effort to intervene instead of relishing in the hilarity of the situations.  They were more pee-on-the-tree/mark-my-territory fights than I-will-kill-you fights, and each ended rather quickly once the parties involved realized they had forgotten what they were fighting about.  Anyways, after I had my fix of schoolyard brawling, Ben and I returned to the camper, a bit disappointed that the night had ended rather early.  The benefit of the unspectacular night, though, was that we had consumed very little 'potent potables,' so we could safely move the car instead of staying in the hot and humid-as-hell parking garage for the night.  Figuring this was a good opportunity to get a head start on the next day's driving, we went about an hour farther south before I became exhausted and we pulled off at and went to sleep.

DAY 4: 15 April
Realizing we were no longer in a hurry because we had made up enough ground, we didn't set an alarm.  So we woke up by the side of the highway quite refreshed on Sunday morning.  Next stop: Surfers Paradise.  Even though I was driving, I don't remember the 'Welcome to New South Wales' sign, but we did, in fact, leave Queensland that morning.

I didn't exactly know what Surfers Paradise would be like.  I mean, what kind of name is that for a city?  Anyway, the first thing on our agenda was brunch, so we went to the supermarket and bough pancake mix, strawberries, milk, and chocolate cake (almost a balanced breakfast).  Immediately upon leaving the supermarket, it started to drizzle.  I had my first of two stalls trying to get out of the uphill parking space from the supermarket, which Ben found a little too gratifying.

Figuring the rain would let up, every time we pulled up next to someone who looked fun we would ask them what their favorite beach was.  Not everyone was very helpful, but one person directed us to the main beach where we cooked the pancakes and waited for the weather.  After an epic failure of an attempt to assemble the canopy over the tailgate, we just huddled under the door while Ben cooked.  In a moment of confusion, while Ben was holding the hot pan in midair for some reason, we both turned toward each other and I burned my arm pretty nice on the pan.  It eventually healed, but it was still great ammunition for my guilt gun.  Now I just have a funny smiley-face patch of non-tanned skin on my left arm.  The pancakes were good, though.

Well, it got really windy and the rain got worse, so we abandoned the beach plan and got back on the road.  So much for paradise!  The upside was that we had a ton of time at our next stop, Byron Bay.

Byron Bay is one of the most popular tourist destinations in NSW.  It's famous for its incredible beach, where you can surf and even scuba dive.  There's also a few bars and clubs.  We met up briefly with some girl Ben knows from Sydney, and took advantage of her hostel accommodation to have an actual [steaming] hot shower.  At a bottle shop in town, we picked up some "Amigos" tequila-flavored beer, which sounded a lot tastier than it was (I love beer, and I love tequila, but some things should just stay separate).  Because we planned to spend the entire next morning at the beach, tonight was a designated party night.  (Still PG.)

Byron bay is full of travelers, hippies, bums, etc.  You can tell it's a popular destination because everyone is walking around with backpacks.  At night the place seemed to fill with party-goers, people playing music on the street, and general shenanigans, albeit at a relatively subdued pace because it was Sunday night and the end of break and a lot of travelers were going home (back to school, or on to their next destination, or whatever).


We stayed at a campsite that night for the first time.  The lady at the front desk, who was very nice, informed us that we were risking a very large fine if we got caught by the ranger sleeping by the side of the road, so we shelled out the $35 for a tiny patch of grass on which to park the jankmobile.  I guess a "campsite" in Australia is not exactly what I had imagined.

We ended up at some half-indoor/half-outdoor club.  One thing I remember specifically is that when the bouncer handed back my ID he said, "thank you, Ari," which I thought was a really nice touch.  In fact, I've found that the bar staff in Australia is much nicer than in the US in general (um, not that I'd know...).  Ben was more into the dance floor scene than I was that night, but I had fun and did a bit of dancing anyway.  The place was not very full; it was mostly locals.  One of them informed us that the local kids in Byron Bay 'are all pretty stupid' because they spend all their time partying with the tourists instead of studying and going to school.  I guess that's the drawback of living by a 365-day beach party.

On our way home we watched a local girl play and sing "Colt 45" by Afroman on a harp.  It was actually an incredible performance, and actually the best rendition of the song I've ever heard.  (Warning: if you're not a member of my generation you will not want to look up that song.)  We all sang along because the lyrics are (imho) hysterical, but we left promptly when she started playing Wonderwall (what is it with Australians and that song?) and hit the proverbial hay at the overpriced grass patch.

DAY 5: 16 April
The next morning we drove out to the main beach, which had lots of surfers.  We polished off an entire box of cornflakes, three bananas, and a carton of strawberries before heading down to the sand.  Like Whitehaven beach, the sand was white and soft, perfect for a post-meal siesta.  It was cool to see all the tiny wet suit-clad kids surfing with their parents; they start at a very early age here.

Ben and I climbed some stairs to a bluff where we could get a better view of the beach and the surf spot below.  Some of the surfers were pretty talented.  (Some of them also happened to be very attractive girls.)  So it was an ideal spot from which to watch and convince myself I could ride waves like they could, even though I know full well I can barely ride a soft board in a straight line.  Also, in the vines below the stair landing there were a couple lizards poking their heads out and warming in the morning sun.  They were fun to spot because their green triangular heads camouflaged perfectly with the leaves.

Byron Bay beach

I'm glad none of the surfers cracked their heads open on these rocks!

What a view!

(Umm... how did that get there?)

Oh, I didn't see you there.

Hey, dude.

This is what happens when you use the flash on a cheap camera on an overcast day.  Came out pretty cool, though.

After the beach, we took a quick jaunt up to a lighthouse.  Because we didn't feel like paying a million dollars to park, we just snapped pictures and headed back down.  But the view from up there was spectacular.

A lighthouse, duh.

Byron Bay is about 800 km (approx. 8 hours) from Sydney, and we didn't have to be back until 3 pm the next day, so we opted for the scenic route out of Byron.  Again, our plan was to stop by anything that looked interesting.  After a while we spotted a sign for a "tourist route" and the "House with no Steps."  We turned off.

About 10 or 20 km down the road was the House with no Steps.  Because it was listed on the same sign as the tourist route, we figured this was some sort of attraction.  But there was a definite misunderstanding.  I should have realized there's nothing special about a house having no steps.  As it turns out, the House with no Steps is some sort of support/activity center for people with [physical, mental, and/or emotional] disabilities; it was definitely not a tourist attraction.  Not wanting to be inappropriate, we left promptly.

Also on the tourist route was a nature park.  We stopped there for a while and walked through the boardwalk.  We saw a few wallabies--actually, technically they were pademelons, but they look basically the same as wallabies and kangaroos--through the trees, so we tried to be as quiet as possible so they wouldn't hop away.  There were signs along the boardwalk with incomprehensibly translated aboriginal stories/legends about the bush (forest) and its native plants and animals.  We also bushwhacked through the trees on the other side of the park to see if we could find more pademelons, but we eventually ran into a barbed wire fence and had to turn around.  Luckily we didn't encounter any deadly snakes.

Bundoon, or Padmelon, in the nature aboriginal nature walk

We used the composting latrines in the parking lot before leaving the nature walk.  Normally, of course, I would leave this detail out.  But something happened.  Inside the stall I performed my customary spider check to ensure I would be left in peace while at my most vulnerable.  All was well.  I especially liked the cool pull handle that dispensed some biodegradable enzymatic chemical into the toilet so there was virtually no smell (American wilderness, we could learn from this).  But outside the stall was different.  Hanging in an almost invisible web under the eave of the outhouse building was the biggest spider I have ever seen (and will ever see) in my life.  This body must have been a good five inches, with eight strong, thin legs protruding from its jet black body.  Although we were petrified, we did spend a while trying to get a decent picture, but without success because our cameras could not focus properly.  It's probably a good thing, as you wouldn't have want to see it.  I can't describe how glad I am that thing was outside the stall.

No picture of the spider.  But I did get a shot of the  flush handle in the cool composting toilet!

Later than night we stopped in Coff's Harbor.  The place was pretty dead, again probably because vacation week was over.  We walked out to the beach and sat for a little while.  There were lots of little crabs scurrying around (they move pretty fast, surprisingly).  The beach was really flat, so we could go way far out without being in the water.  The waves just barely came up to our feet where we were sitting.  It was a really nice and relaxing spot, and a nice break form driving, but then we got back on the road to make the final push towards Sydney.

We basically drove until we were too tired to continue.  Per usual, it poured.  I think we had been following a storm front since Cairns.  Either that or we have really bad luck with weather.  There was a stalled truck in the entrance to the rest stop we wanted to sleep at, so we slept on a side road instead.  After getting stuck in some pretty bad mud (I was not very happy to happy to be the one that got to push us out), we found a better place.  (Before that we drove through the creepiest abandoned motel of all time.)  We spent our last night exhausted, listening to the rain beat on the thin janky roof.

DAY 6: 17 April
We woke up pretty early in the morning.  It wasn't raining as hard, but everything was still soaking wet outside, so I elected to climb into the drivers seat from the back without exiting the vehicle.  Truthfully, the last stretch to Sydney was not that memorable, and we only really stopped for gas and to switch drivers.  We arrived at Ben's apartment around one, which left enough time to clean out the camper (we had made it absolutely filthy in just five days), fill it with gas one final time, and return it to the Travelers Auto Barn where I gave the guy working there an earful for renting us the sketchiest and most broken vehicle in all of Australia.  Goodbye jankmobile, I'll miss you [sort of]!

The road trip was over.  It felt both long and short at the same time.  Long because we had driven 3000 kilometers and made countless stops.  Short because it was only six days.  It was full of ups and downs (and lefts and rights).  We saw some of the most beautiful places on earth.  Would I do it again the same way?  No, probably not.  In hindsight, we drove way too far in too short of a time.  I had figured it would be a perfectly manageable distance based on the time I drove from Boston to Miami in 24 hours, but I really would have liked to spend more time in each place.  But would I do it again a different way?  Yes, definitely.  Maybe next time on a motorcycle!

[Stay tuned for the Sydney blog...]