Been Spending Most My Life Living In A Surfer's Paradise

Along the well-known and heavily visited Gold Coast of central Eastern Australia, Surfer's Paradise originated as just that - a quiet retreat for surfers with some nice waves and long beaches a few decades ago, but after the influx of high-rise hotels, casinos, theme parks and tourist dollars, it has become a loud, flashy place with a bit of a mini Las Vegas feel. People are said to either love or hate this place, and based on the descriptions, I was pretty sure that I'd be among the latter, though I thought I'd at least drive through to see what the fuss was about. Upon first inspection, the place wasn't as bad as I had imagined. I found a parking spot near the beach, where I followed along the golden sand, watching the stream of high rise buildings grow longer and longer, replacing what probably once was a peaceful, secluded coastline. The hotels and condos seemed to stretch infinitely down the beach. Luckily for me, I had arrived on a Sunday morning, so the town was almost eerily quiet, perhaps in the calm before the storm (or after - from the night before). As the sun rose higher in the sky, I could feel the heat of the day beginning to set in. At the same time, the streets began a quiet buzz with more and more tourists filling them by the minute. I figured that I soon would begin to loathe the place, so I headed out of town, but not before seeing and longing for a Mexican restaurant. Of course it wouldn't be authentic, and you can only find Mexican in touristy parts of Australia, but I can't fight my primordial desires when I see a place like that. Being late morning, the restaurant was still closed, so I headed up the coast to Brisbane, the capital of Queensland.

Brisbane, or Brizzie - the clever nickname that saves precious milliseconds of speech, is supposed to be a fairly nice city with an active nightlife and one of the most favourable climates of all the big cities in Oz. Crossing over a meandering river that circles the business district, I soon encountered a nice mix of regal, stately architecture, greenery and pedestrian malls. Being right on the coast, the town is flat and walkable, as are many of the other Australian cities that I've visited. I couldn't help myself and visited the obligatory tourist shops on the main pedestrian mall, marvelling at cheap t-shirts, stuffed animals, cheesy bucket hats, suggestive key chains and everything that you could hope for in one of those places. I also watched the peddlers along the street, putting on performances for the children and adults, working hard for the tourist dollar. One child (no, not me...well maybe a little) was particularly amazed by a performer painted in all white, making mechanical motions when someone would put a coin in his hand. He offered the children a piece of candy as a reward, but most of those morsels ended up being thrown away by the discerning parents the moment they were out of sight of the performer. Trying to decide upon my next adventure, I consulted a few of the brochures that I'd picked up along the way and chose to make my next stop Fraser Island. I called and made the booking for the next day, having to borrow a fax machine at the internet cafe to confirm everything. With the plans set, it was time to enjoy the city, so I made my way through the officious government type buildings full of columns and stone towards the waterfront and botanic gardens. Groves of palms, bamboo and other local flora grew throughout the park, adding a nice bit of humidity to the warm day.

I had soon made my way through the park, and I began my quest to cross the long bridges over the river for some good views and pictures of the city, but my laziness and hunger soon got the best of me, and I turned around near the halfway point. Back in the city, I found a park bench and read a bit about my next destination. Thinking it to only be an hour or two away, I was shocked and a bit nervous to find out that Hervey Bay, the entrance point to Fraser Island, was more than a few hours away, so I hurriedly headed back to my car, hoping to grab some food and get on the road before dark. I had passed through a mall food court just outside the parking deck, so I figured that a kebab for the road would be perfect. As was becoming my custom, I was just moments too late for the food that I craved. The delectable kebab toppings were all that remained of the dark shop, leaving my hopes shattered again. I turned to assess my other options, and those options were fading by the second. Every time I looked at another shop, the lights went out, and the food was being packed away. I went down the escalator to survey the lower floor for food, but it seemed to be facing the same epidemic, so I hurried back up to the one shop that seemed to make it past 5 - a fast food Malaysian takeout shop. I figured it wouldn't be bad, and I was lucky to find pictures on the menu overhead, so I ended up with a chicken and noodle combo, doused in soy sauce. Not the best meal ever, but it was certainly better than nothing.

Using my map of free campsites and rest areas (the traveller's Bible, along with Lonely Planet, in Oz), I found a potential stopping point about 2/3 of the way in between Brizzie and Hervey Bay. A few hours into the darkness, and I had arrived at another dark, quiet rest stop, not really knowing anything about the surroundings. I knew that I'd be leaving early in the morning, so almost any spot would do, and this was as good as any. So, I set my watch alarm, folded down the seats of the mini VW, rolled out the thin mattress, put up the curtains, and I was soon asleep, ready for a big day at Fraser Island.

(The beach and never-ending highrise buildings of Surfer's Paradise.)

(I think this is a Parliament building or something in Brisbane.)

(The view from the bridge over the river, back towards the Eastern side of Brizzie.)

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Koala Conservatory

After Gosford Park and my night at the shady rest area, I knew I had to make up some driving time, so I planned for a long day on the road, hoping to get a long way away from Sydney and up the East Coast that is so highly acclaimed by the hordes of travellers that follow the same path. The day started off dark and dreary, providing a nice incentive to stay in the car and away from the occasional rain. I sped up the highway, making good time as I passed through small towns along the road and a good bit of empty space, taking full advantage of the high speed limits that almost matched those of American freeways. In and out of rainstorms and dark clouds, I seemed to be driving away from the worst of the storms, leaving me in a dry, somewhat eerie state, just before the rains came to each of the towns. Eventually, about midday, I came across an appealing street sign, indicating the Billabong Koala Conservatory and wildlife park just up the road. Despite being fortunate enough to see so much wildlife in the past few weeks, I still couldn't pass up another of these great parks, so I quickly calculated a few driving times, changed my plans and swerved over just in time for the exit. Around a few indirect gravel roads I went, following the signs to the park, just off to the side of the highway.

This park is known for its program in breeding koalas, and they actually supply some of the zoos and other parks with their koalas. (Side note: my buddies in the other wildlife park told me that they paid AUS $42,000 for three koalas there, which is about $34,000) I went in the park and saw a few of their scary, venomous snakes, including the most venomous one in the world, and a few other local serpents that would surely not be a pleasant sight along the forested walking trails of the area. Next, I saw the endangered and elusive Southern cassowary, a huge black bird with long legs and a neon blue head and neck. This is much like an emu or ostrich, along with a yellowish, bony ridge on its head that it uses for some potent headbutts, in addition to the sharp talons of its feet, ready to cut or disembowel any potential enemies, and this bird is reputed to be quite aggressive towards humans or anyone else, so two lines of fences protected it from us and us from it. I tested my luck with the bird for a while, but after not being able to provoke any reckless charges, I moved on. I passed the exhibits of noisy, colorful birds - parrots, parakeets, cockatoos, and all that sort of thing, and then a bright white mass of fur caught my eye. In the small fence in front of me were a few small kangaroos, but one of them stood out. Maybe it was his shy personality, but more likely it was his snow-white fur, pink nose and red eyes. This was an albino kangaroo, and apparently there are a few breeders that have isolated this genetic anomaly, and the park was able to get a pair of the unique marsupials. I stared at the animal for a while, but I think it started to feel self-conscious, so I continued on, giving it a feeling that it's just like all of the other kangaroos that just happen to have a bit more color on their fur.

I went to the macropod feeding area with my food in hand, ready to meet the cute locals. I found a few brave wallabies, but the animals here actually seemed a bit more timid than some of the other ones that I'd encountered. Soon enough, though, I had three cute little wallabies standing at my feet, begging for food and pulling at my pants and my hand as I tried to split the food equally amongst them. I tried to feed the other albino kangaroo in the pen, but he didn't seem too excited to see me, so I soon gave up. I also found an adolescent kangaroo that must've just had a new coat of fur come in for the winter, as most kangaroos aren't that much softer than a horse or deer, but this one's coat was superbly soft, almost like a fleece blanket. I petted Softie for a while as he lay on the ground, relaxing from a hard life of doing absolutely nothing other than hopping around a bit and being hand-fed by adoring tourists. As I was ready for my next exhibit, I got caught in a conversation with a Canadian girl named China (or maybe Chyna if she's really cool), but I managed to extricate myself from the familiar traveler's conversation about places visited and future stops just in time to make it to the koala exhibit. In a large, sort of circus tent shaped room, 10 or 15 koalas made their homes in the eucalyptus trees, surrounding a walkway that allowed us to get quite close to the sleepy animals. At the same time, the ranger was giving an informational talk about them, and he got one of them down on his shoulder for pictures and pets. The cute koala wooed everyone around, allowing us to pet him, though the ranger said it would be too traumatic for each and every one of the people that he sees everyday to hold him, so I settled for a close-up look and a chance to pet the little guy. Just as his speech was ending, the pounding sound of huge, isolated raindrops upon the tin roof of the enclosure began to fill the air. The rain started slowly, but it soon picked up and filled the room with the loud pings of millions of powerful drops, pelting the roof above. Soon, a full-fledged storm was upon us, and I was ready to hit the road. I ran out to my car, jumped in, and I was soon back on my way, with the defrost on high and the windshield wipers struggling to keep up with the torrential rain.

My next stop was the hippie/surfer town of Byron Bay. Every single person that I've talked to, in addition to the guide books, lists this as a must-see place. The beach is nice, the atmosphere is laid back, the accommodation and food are cheap...you can't go wrong with it. As I drove into town, I decided it was time for some Beach Boys on my iPod - classic surfing tunes that have surely graced the airwaves of this town for decades. I passed by the spiritual cleansing and palm reading shops just outside of town, excited about what I'd find in this place. Passing through the main roundabout, I soon was on the main street, and it was as if I'd arrived in backpacker hell. All forms of young hippies, old hippies, fake hippies, trashily-dressed partiers, grungy young people and those still young at heart filled the streets, bringing the main road to a near stand-still. The "quaint" town featured rows of cheap food, supermarkets, travel agencies, souvenir shops and the like. I know I should have given it more of a chance, my I just had absolutely horrible first impressions of the crowded, pseudo-laid back town that was surely not the peaceful retreat that I had imagined. I spent a little while at the travel agencies trying to make plans for the cities further up the coast, and then I headed out of town, deciding that I should at least see the beaches before I left. The large expanse of beach was fairly nice, split by a large, forested head upon which sits a lighthouse overlooking both main beaches of the town. I stopped for a few pictures of the place and headed back out of town, making another stop or two to check out the beach, full of amateur surfers and sun seekers. The final beach in town was reputed to be a nude beach, and my curiosity got the best of me, so I stopped to have a look, but everyone that I saw from my brief vantage point was clothed (for better or worse, depending on which person you were looking at). After that, I made my way out of town, very hungry, but not wanting to spend any more time in the disappointing town. I stopped in the next city along the coast and found a kebab shop at the edge of town that sounded perfect. I feared that it might be closed, but the sign said open, so I slid the door open and walked right in. The food and condiments were still out on display, but the tiny shop was completely silent with no one to be found. I called out for a few people, but there was no one around, and I found that the other door was locked, so I surmised that I actually wasn't supposed to be in there.

Let down by Byron Bay and my kebab shop, I continued North up the highway, not in the greatest of spirits. The hippie town somehow managed to seem abrasive, in complete contrast to the feel that is so highly-touted when anyone mentions the place, and the trouble in finding good food had me down. Soon, I was right at the border of New South Wales and Queensland, and I headed towards the next town, hoping for some good food. I soon found a Domino's Pizza place, happy that I'd be able to get a good deal on my dinner for the night. I ordered another of my beloved Godfather pizzas, clearly specifying that I wanted the deep dish crush (it's more filing) after being so disappointed upon receiving a thin, crispy crust a few days before. (The thin crust actually tastes great, but I'm looking for better value for the money, and the thick crust has a much higher rating on my scale.) A few minutes later, my pizza came out - one large cheese pizza. I mentioned that it was supposed to be a Godfather pizza, but I was fine with it, but the slightly frightening, slightly hunchbacked worker with straggly black hair falling over his ears decided that he'd make it again. Another ten minutes passed, and I was soon on my way with two pizzas - the right one and the extra cheese that they accidentally made, all for about $6, so my mood was soon picking up. In addition to the free pizza, the sky began to turn varying shades of orange and pink while the sun set behind the clouds. Despite my bad day, the night finished perfectly, and I drove just across the border into Queensland. I was in too-heavily populated of an area to be able to find a rest stop for sleep, so I decided to just take one of the small highways that headed inland towards the hills and look for a nice spot along the side of the road to sleep. About ten minutes inland, I crossed over a river and under some power lines, and I noticed a large, abandoned parking lot at the bottom of the hill. I made a quick U-turn at the local school and soon secured my spot in the lot, hoping that I would be ok there until the morning. I awoke early and got out of there, hoping that I wasn't going to be noticed by the time I moved on. Within minutes, I was back on the freeway, heading for the loud, crazy resort town of Surfer's Paradise.

(Awww. Poor little guy doesn't even have any pigment. I call him Albino Al.)

(Right now he's thinking that my camera might be a food source.)

(Nice to meet you, too, mate. I'm pretty sure that they like this. You can tell by the annoyed look on his face. By the way, check out the albino one in the background...but don't stare. That's rude.)

(Koala Conservatory = lots of koalas. How many can you see? I count 41.)

(The calming sunset and the Hungry Jacks sign on the left - the Aussie version of Burger King)

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Gosford Park

Going back towards the coast again, away from the stunning Blue Mountains, my next stop was a wilderness park whose brochure had said the magic word to ensure that I'd make a stop there. In addition to the obligatory kangaroos, wallabies, wombats, emus and even the enticing Tasmanian devils, they had a platypus. A real platypus. This was my chance to get up close and examine one for myself. I had a great time seeing the ones in the wild in the beautiful backdrop of the misty Lake Elizabeth, but this would be an opportunity to actually get a close up view and hopefully some good pictures, depending on whether or not the animal would be active and out of its burrow. Supposedly just North of Sydney, as it was advertised in one of the Sydney attractions booklets, the park was in the suburb of Gosford. Looking at the map, it didn't seem too far away, but I knew that I needed to hurry to make the most of the park. I couldn't pull myself away from the Blue Mountains as soon as I'd hoped, so I wanted to make it to the park before 3 pm to make it worth the money, as it would surely close at dark, which is pathetically around 5 pm these days. I made great time on the freeways outside of the city, confident that I'd have plenty of time at the park, but I was soon stuck on the busy side roads of the suburbs, stopping at signal after signal as my afternoon plans looked to be in peril. Fortunately, I eventually made my way to the "suburb" of Gosford, about an hour outside of the city, just at the stroke of three, so I rushed into the park, ready for some great sights.

My first exhibit was the Tasmanian devil enclosure, as they were on the verge of being fed for the afternoon. The small, black marsupials resemble small to medium sized dogs from afar, but you can tell that their mannerisms and movements aren't exactly the same, and the straggly tail definitely resembles that of a possum more than a canine. The open "cage" contained a mother and three pups or joeys or whatever you'd call them, though they are all about the same size, each with a distinct white marking or two on its back or chest or tail. Portrayed as being ferocious little beasts, they do have mean streaks, but they are fairly shy around animals as big and imposing as humans. The guide placed a few pieces of steak in the low hanging branches and hidden in the hollow logs and on top of the rocks of the pen, giving the animals a sense of hunting for their food, requiring them to at least use their rudimentary senses to locate the food. A few snarls and growls could be heard from the cage as they tugged at the same prime piece of meat, and the guide even got close enough to get one of the devils to growl at him, though it was too timid to actually attack him. Or so we hoped...and it didn't, so we were right. All that drama for nothing.

Next, I moved on to the star attraction in my mind - the platypusary, which apparently meant the place where they kept the platypus. Extremely excited, I rushed up the concrete pathway, around the alligator lake to a small, dark hut in the front corner of the park. I entered the dark doorway, and I was delighted at what I saw. The room was very dimly lit with a red light, as to simulate dawn or dusk - I know I always think dawn or dusk when I see the color red. Inside was a long, shallow enclosure about 20 feet wide, 5 feet deep, and 6 feet tall, mostly filled with water, rocks and logs, with a tiny perch on the edge for the platypus to rest. I immediately saw the resident monotreme (overly technical term for that type of mammal), swimming back and forth effortlessly through the water. I couldn't believe that I was just a few feet away from this astounding animal that had completely fascinated me since I first heard about it so many years ago. The only one in the exhibit, I paced back and forth along with the swimming animal, observing every little detail. The leathery, duck-like bill that it uses to feel for food on the river's floor. The huge webbed feet that propel it so easily through the water. The beaver-like tail that it uses to steer through the rocks and logs below. The combination of all of these features all on one unique organism is amazing. It glided back and forth with incredible ease, paddling just a few strokes with its front feet, then looking around, almost looking as if it were smiling at me with its wide bill. Every few laps, it would dive down to the bottom, rummaging through the rocks to find little bits of food. Just as the exhibit was scheduled to close, another worker came by and threw in some new food - crustaceans, crayfish and worms, and he allowed me to stay as long as I liked, just as long as I closed the door behind me. Entranced, I watched the platypus carry food from the bottom to the surface, banging it along the wall and shaking it until it was small enough for edible bites while it floated along the top of the water. At times, it looked like a dog carrying a large stick in its mouth, with some of the crayfish obviously too big for its small mouth. The whole animal is actually smaller than I'd imagined as a child, just about a foot and a half or two feet long, but it was still unbelievable. Seeing it in the wild was so special, but being able to actually observe the intricate features and its behaviour was beyond even my own expectations of this trip.

After nearly an hour and a half of following the every movement of the platypus, the park was on the verge of closing, so I quickly saw what else it had to offer, in a ten minute rush around the area. I saw more awkward emus, a bird with which I never feel comfortable, so I delicately snuck around them, as they were blocking my entry into the park's exhibits. Then I saw a few of the kangaroos and some new varieties of colorful wallabies that I hadn't seen yet. I checked out the obese wombats, sleepy koalas and some exotic birds before the last attraction of the park - the alligators and crocodiles. They have a huge, dark, swampy lake with alligators all throughout the banks and swimming silently through the dark water, making me thankful for the fencing in between myself and the prehistoric looking creatures. Then, I saw the star attraction of the park - Eric. Leading into the park, an friendly looking animated crocodile pointed the way from the highway, warning about speed bumps and pedestrians ahead, but the real Eric wasn't quite as cute. I missed the feeding earlier in the day, but I could still appreciate the power of the creature as it lay silent in the clear water of his enclosure. Almost fifteen feet long and around 70 years old, this was an impressive specimen of the saltwater crocodiles that make Australia famous. These crocodiles are extremely aggressive and can grow to massive proportions, actually making humans a prey item from time to time. In fact, Eric was identified as a problem crocodile in his original home, so he was taken out of the wild and transported to a few zoos and wildlife parks where he continued to fight with and often kill his roommates. He did lose part of one leg in one of the battles before he was moved to 'solitary confinement.' He's been a star of the park ever since, featuring daily feedings, and fortunately he has calmed down just a bit in his old age. The sheer size and power of this beast was evident even as it slept. I wished I had time to see him in action, but I had to keep moving, and the park workers were anxiously waiting for me to leave, so that they could close the park and go home, so I hit the road.

Not far North, I came to a sign for a rest area, and I knew that it would have to be my resting spot for the night. Unfortunately, the rest area was at the crux of the highway and another major road that split off at that point, making it a popular stop. As I finished my cold spaghetti leftovers from the night before, I observed the odd mix of cars and trucks in the parking lot. One sort of businessman pulled up and proceeded to disrobe in the parking lot, changing out of his work clothes and into some shorts and a t-shirt for no apparent reason before looking suspicious and getting back into his car and driving off. Another car was full of two cautious teenagers, smoking pot and looking around for any signs of police. A few random truckers pulled in and out of the lot, stopping for various amounts of time as I analyzed the situation, hoping that I'd be ok for the night. Despite a bad feeling about the transient stop, I decided to close up my curtains and hope for the best. Just as I was ready to get to sleep, another campervan pulled right in between my car and the next one, completely negating the nice buffer zone that I had left to give both of us a nice safe feeling about our neighbor. To add to the situation, the driver then proceeded to open all of his doors and allow all of us in the area to enjoy his loud jazz/psychedelic mix that played as he took his time making dinner and settling in for the night. More than a few headlights shone in on me from the comings and goings of the rest stop, but I stayed put and awoke early in the morning, ready to get on the road again.

(The real Tasmanian Devil...he's angry. This is, of course, just after he finished spinning around like a tornado and muttering a few indecipherable phrases.)

(Yes, that's a platypus.)

(The bill is actually fairly soft and detects electric currents from the bottom of the river emitted by insects, worms and crustaceans.)

(I think he liked me taking pictures of him. That's why he kept turning away and hiding from me - playing hard to get.)

(Diving down for food. He'd go down for about 20-30 seconds before coming up for a quick breath and to chew his food.)

(Nice closeup)

(It's a wallaby on a rock, hence you are seeing the Rock Wallaby.)

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Blue Mountains

As I left Wollongong, I followed the acclaimed coastal road, with bridges and overhangs along the ocean, though not quite as impressive as the photos and tour books made it seem. I was soon on the outskirts of Sydney, heading West to the Blue Mountains, a popular excursion just two hours from the city. The name comes from the fact that the mist coming off of the area's eucalyptus trees creates a blue tint on the horizon. I had seen pictures and shows about the area before, but I feared that its proximity to a major city and large tour groups would mean that the place would be overcrowded and not live up to its natural hype. Just moments after entering the Blue Mountains National Park and getting a view of the countryside, I knew that my suspicions were unfounded. This place was amazing - some of the truly awe inspiring scenery that made my New Zealand trip so wonderful. The mountainous area is full of plateaus, cliffs and steep rock formations overlooking expansive river valleys, filled with the deep green of canopy untouched eucalyptus trees. The vistas seem to go on forever in every direction, each stop yielding another orange rock protrusion, topped with trees above and the green carpet below. My first stop was Wentworth Falls, and it wasn't far down the winding, rocky trail to the first lookout, where I saw the impressive falls. The river cascades over a huge cliff face, splitting into two separate streams of water that flow around the rocky point and down a few hundred feet below to a brief pool before plunging in a thin stream off the next cliff to the valley floor another few hundred feet down, covered by the surrounding vegetation. The falls were a bit weak at the moment due to the drought, but the massive height of each stage of the falls, surrounded by thick temperate forests and colorful rock formations made for quite a sight. Unfortunately, the track to the bottom of the falls, following along the cliff face was partially closed, though the hundreds of rock stairs carved into the wall across the valley didn't look particularly inviting, so I wasn't too disappointed.

Excited at the potential of the rest of the area, I entered the main town of Katoomba, which I believe means Land of Falling Waters or something like that. Though touristy, the town had a nice, relaxed feel, just a few main streets covered in pedestrians, cheap cafes, bakeries and travel agencies. The climate of the area was also perfect fall weather, just a bit cool but perfect for walking and climbing. I drove through town to Echo Point, the extremely popular lookout of the Three Sisters and the reason that people come up from Sydney. A wide, two-tiered lookout provided more unbelievable views of the valley below, stretching out in every direction with not a sign of civilization, other than the clicking cameras to my side. The vast forests are only interrupted by a few tiny rivers that make their way through the mild hills and other large cliff faces miles off in the distance. This area would almost be a canyon, if the walls weren't so far apart from each other...perhaps like a wide part of the Grand Canyon, filled in with thick forest on every exposed piece of horizontal land. As dusk began to set in, I took a few more pictures of the area and the Three Sisters, a set of three rock points at the edge of one cliff that were said to be the souls of three sisters that were turned to stone for some reason or another.

Back in town, I found a nice hostel on the edge of town, a small, quiet place that got away from the party scene that afflicts many of the other hostels, especially this close to Sydney. I was able to catch up on some showers, laundry and recharging my electronic equipment, and I also had a chance to actually cook a meal myself, so I went with the simple spaghetti option. I decided to make all that I had, since it would be a while until I had cooking facilities again, so I made a huge pot and saved the rest of it in an ingenious container that I fashioned using two plates and a bit of SaranWrap...which didn't taste all that bad the next day. One of my roommates, a Danish guy, had some very interesting stories from his seven or so months in the country, and he also gave me some good advice on what to see as I make my way up the East coast. I got a fairly early start the next day after the free breakfast of toast and jam, along with milk, which I used to add to some of the Honey Nut Cheerios that I'd been eating dry every morning, so it was a nice change to actually have wet cereal, as that's one of my favorite meals. My next stop was Blackheath, another part of the Blue Mountains said to have great views, waterfalls and climbing opportunities. As I got to the first lookout after a long gravel road, I found another grandiose view, but a few warning signs informed me that there had been some large forest fires within the year, so a lot of the vegetation had been thinned out, and the waterfalls weren't all their full flow. Also, the many trails of the area are all closed for repair, so I just visited a few of the overlooks, marveling at the beautiful views of these massive valleys and majestic mountains. I made my way through another long dirt road, dodging ditches and bumps while going just a bit too fast for the road conditions, making the ride that much more exciting and trying to maximize my time in the area.

On the way out of town, I made a stop at Scenic World, the extremely popular tourist attraction that provides a cable tram across one gorge, a forest walk and a steep incline railway to the valley below, reputed to be one of the steepest in the world. I entered the building and assessed the pictures before deciding that it wasn't worth the high price of the trips. Instead, I followed the road around the edge of the cliffs, winding up in the exact same place where the tram ended, providing myself a brilliant view of the gorge and forest below, admiring the noisy white cockatoos that swooped and swerved above the canopy. Pleased that I was able to get the same experience for free, I walked along the trail that followed the steep edge, hearing but not quite seeing the waterfall of the area and deciding that Braille would be really hard to learn. (There were Braille signposts describing the flora along the way...I couldn't really understand much of it.) As the day was already halfway through, I reluctantly had to leave the surprisingly beautiful Blue Mountains, since I needed to start making my way North if I hoped to be in Cairns in the next few weeks to turn in my rental car on time. Nevertheless, I was really impressed by the natural beauty of this area, just a few hours from the thriving metropolis but providing so much serenity and majesty, in spite of the large tour groups and buses that make their way through the small streets.

(Wentworth's Falls in the Blue Mountains - this is just the top half of the enormous drop)

(Some of the mountains and lush greenery below)

(More incredible overlooks)

(The Three Sisters rock formation on the left and some other pleasant views)

(Another set of rocks and trees...they make a nice combo.)

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Bateman's Bay and Domino's Pizza

As I headed away from the rather uninteresting capital of Canberra, I wanted to get back to the coast and the untouched beaches of Southern New South Wales, a part often neglected by tourists in their rush to make it up the East coast from Sydney. Due to my rather unrestful night at the rest stop right along the freeway and just a few hours of real sleep, I was feeling the effects of the long drives and frequent signs warning you to take breaks, powernaps, etc to "Survive This Drive." Fortunately, a rest area wasn't too far away, so I pulled off the monotonous road and had some lunch and a quick break to re-energize my senses. Soon, I was back on the road, feeling better, enjoying the groves of eucalyptus trees interspersed with the wide, rolling hills of brown and yellow due to the drought over the past few years here. My first stop along the coast was another unassuming town called Bateman's Bay. Just a few stores and restaurants, I decided to use the internet cafe based on a sign I saw and nearly caused an accident as I cut across into what I thought was an open lane and rushed through the roundabout and down into the parking deck, right in front of an oncoming car that luckily seemed to predict my idiocy. A nice wave on my part made everything ok, and the incident was behind me. After the pricey internet cafe, I walked around the small town, looking for something for dinner. A placard down the road at Domino's caught my eye - Large Pizza $6.95 (Aus. dollars). Not particularly a huge fan of Domino's, but a big fan of pizza and a bigger fan of good deals, I couldn't pass this one up. I got the Godfather pizza with thick crust (as the thick crust is more filing, making it an even better deal), and I spoke with the friendly owner who seemed interesting to talk about my trip and the US before I got the pizza and headed on my way, very happy with my dinner and most likely, my ensuing breakfast.

According to the comprehensive map that I bought, indicating almost every rest area in the country and highly recommended by every backpacker to travel through with a car, there was a rest area not too far out of town, so I made my way along the highway, finding the rest area just before dark. With the pizza in the passenger's seat, I soon found that this rest area wasn't the nicest one that I'd ever seen, looking as though it hadn't been maintained in more than a year or two, with grass overgrowing most of it and trash along the road. Nevertheless, I found a level parking spot, and I had my surprisingly tasty dinner before folding the seats down and creating my bed for the night. In the morning, I headed for Murramarang National Park, leading me down some picturesque, eucalyptus covered roads from the hinterlands (inland, as the Aussies say it) to the coast. The main attraction of this park are the extremely friendly and tame kangaroos that apparently always frequent the beach and parking lots...well, apparently not always. The books and pictures seemed to say that it was a sure thing to see them hopping along the beach, hanging out in the surf, catching some rays, playing a little bit of beach volleyball with the tourists, etc, but that wasn't the case for me. As I drove down to one beach outside of the park, I did see three medium sized kangaroos in the road before they jumped off into the woods to avoid my car, but that was the extent of my macropod sightings for the day. (Macropod means big foot...kangaroos have big feet...kangaroos are macropods) I found the beach, a wide stretch of golden sand surrounded by tall pine and eucalyptus forest and a few bits of grass, and I saw the possible silhouette of one kangaroo and nothing else, but the sighting turned out to be an oddly shaped tree branch off in the distance. I wandered to both ends of the beach, still hoping for one of them to wake up and join me in the sand, and I was able to at least find a few interesting footprints on the beach, proving that at least one kangaroo has been on the beach in the last few days. So, disappointed at not being able to have a kangaroo rub suntan lotion on my back, I headed back to the main highway and headed further North.

The next of Australia's over 500 national parks on my list was Jervis Bay. The descriptions of the peaceful, lovely beaches piqued my interest, though I was a bit skeptical as to what I'd actually see, as the Aussies seemed to have labeled anything and everything with more than a few acres of forest or some slightly interesting animals as a national park, so I couldn't just go on the 'national park' label that actually seems to mean something in the US or New Zealand. As I made my way to Jervis Bay, I saw that the ranger station ahead seemed to be stopping people, and a sign confirmed my suspicion - they were charging a park fee for entrance. Since I knew that I was only going to stay for an hour or two, I decided not to enter the actual national park, and I found a few nearby beaches that I justified to myself, as they would surely be similar to those just on the other side of the park border. The deserted beaches did live up to their billing of being secluded and pristine, quite good looking for being so far South. The water even had a hint of light, tropical blue, and in the right light, the sand could be white enough to pass as one of Australia's Northern coastal treasures. I walked around the beach for a bit before heading back for the road, realizing that I needed to start making up some time, as I still have a very long way to go North before I turn in the car in a few weeks.

Pleased with my dinner from the night before, based both on taste and price, I searched for the local Domino's and easily found it in the town of Nowra. Me and my tough looking Godfather pizza got on our way, and I soon found another rest area for an uneventful night on the road. Making good time in the evening and the next morning, I reached Wollongong, one of the largest cities South of Sydney, where I was thoroughly entertained by an eclectic cast of characters walking the street - an old man with extremely short shorts and a tight, sleeveless shirt, a middle aged man with a huge pot belly, two pretty-boy office workers, and the best one: a badass twenty-something guy with some baggy clothes, a backwards hat and...a toothbrush in his mouth. No, he wasn't brushing his teeth, he was just holding it in his mouth as he patrolled the streets. Apparently, no one messes with Toothbrush Man in Wollongong. I know I didn't.

(Note the kangaroos, or lack thereof, at Murramarang National Park.)

(Strange footprints proved that kangaroos had actually been on the beach.)

(A nice looking beach just outside Jervis Bay)

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Wilson's Prom

Reluctantly leaving Wildlife Wonderland and my new friends (both animal and human) behind, I headed for the Southernmost point of the Australian mainland - Wilson's Promontory National Park. The place is highly acclaimed in the guide books and was recommended to me by a few people, so I decided to go check it out. A rather boring drive between the two locations ensued, passing flat, dry pasture land before finally moving into some semblance of forests and trees as I neared the tip of the SE coast. I arrived in the park just after the offices had closed, so I grabbed a free map and started to make my way towards the middle of the park, hoping to see some of the many animal residents including kangaroos and wombats. As I passed an area with tons of signs and warnings about wildlife, I saw a large brown creature moving around, large enough to almost be a horse or kangaroo bending down to eat his food, so I pulled the van back around and moved in for a closer look. I got out of the car and took a look to find that it was actually a large, old wombat, not far off from the size of a golden retriever. Not quite as cute and cuddly as Lolly and Gracie, I was still intrigued to see a wombat in the wild, so I watched him for a while as he munched away on the grass below, not really caring about me, as long as I didn't walk too close. Eventually I moved on and stopped at a few of the nearby overlooks of the park.

The combination of granite outcrops, large hills and white sand beaches made for some stunning scenery, in spite of the overcast weather. Since this is the common weather theme of the area, that means that the parks are less crowded and more accessible during the winter months, leaving me plenty of space on my own beaches. I first stopped at the pleasant Whiskey Beach, surrounded by large, reddish boulders on each side and a flat, white beach and pounding, light blue waves in between. Just a few kilometers down the road was the next beach, Squeaky Beach, named for the squeaking sound caused by the tiny granite particulates in the sand. This was fun, though I'd actually experienced the same phenomenon in Sydney at Bondi Beach. The bright white sand of Squeaky Beach made me think that this place would be stunning and deservedly packed during the summer months of heat and full sunlight. As the night drew near, the air was getting cooler, and I knew that I had to find a spot before dark. Luckily, being in a national park, there were quite a few spots, so I just pulled into one of the campsites and had little to do, other than eat a few snacks before setting up the bed and pulling down the curtains and shade for the night. The next morning, I was also treated to a nice warm shower, thanks to the restrooms nearby. I payed for my stay on the way out, which ended up being more expensive than I thought, especially for a national park, though it was still only about $14 for the day use and camping fees. Also, as I was packing up my clothes and getting ready to get in the car, I heard some commotion just above my head. As I looked up, a bright, deep red bird with navy blue wings had flown in and perched itself on my open door, apparently expecting some sort of food handout. Just a minute or two later, it gave up on me and my stinginess, but I got a nice view of the colorful bird.

From the Prom, as it is affectionately known, I headed North up the East coast, beginning my long trip up to the tip of the NE coast. I passed through a few thick eucalyptus forests and made some good progress before realizing that I once again was going to have to spend the night in the middle of nowhere. Utilizing a book/map that every traveler raves about, I found a deserted rest area off the side of this isolated road and made my way in the pitch black down the tiny dirt road that reminded me of those roads through the trees in Crocodile Dundee. In the clearing, there was one other car, but I couldn't tell what or where anything was, so I pulled into a decently flat spot and soon fell asleep. Throughout the night, I heard raindrops on the roof and hoped that there was nothing too close by in the unknown, unseen wilderness all around. When I awoke, I pulled down the shades and opened the doors to find myself in a towering grove of eucalyptus trees, their bright white trunks shining with the earliest hints of the morning light, breaking its way through the mist that hovered around the light green canopy. The sunbursts and occasional fog that made their way through the thick forests provided some excellent scenery for my morning drive. I went through another tiny town before an extremely brief stop at Croajingolong National Park, which proved to be exactly the same scenery as what I'd seen on the main road, so I headed back up and decided to continue making progress, as I have a very long way to go before the end of this roadtrip.

Halfway through the day, I passed another small sign indicating a wildlife park, and, again, I couldn't resist. I debated for a while and eventually turned around and went back. The park wasn't as big as the others, especially because they are renovating many of the displays, so it mostly consisted of some kangaroos, echidnas (including a cute baby), two koalas, some dingoes and some other birds. I made my way around the tiny park, feeding a few of the brave kangaroos and watching the spiky, baby echidna meander around its cage, looking like a black and white ball of spikes with a long pointy nose used for digging up bugs and ants in the ground. Soon, the bells of the tiny train were ringing, so the few other guests and I made our way back to the start of the park for a quick tour on the 3 car train that basically appeared to be a modified riding lawn mower. Within minutes, we had made it all the way around the park, and then we circled back around to the koala exhibit where we were met by two of the workers who actually let us in, as there weren't many of us. The group consisted of myself, two Australian mothers about 40 years of age, though trying to dress way younger and more hip, and their daughters and/or friends who were three thirteen or fourteen year old girls that were also trying their hardest to look as cool and trendy as possible. Right as the rangers opened the gate, the young girls ran towards the koalas with no regards for the animals, immediately patting them on the head and taking pictures right in their faces while the workers patiently gave us a few tips about not scaring the animals or touching their heads and not petting the one that doesn't really like people, though the girls hardly heard any of that. The koala was amazingly calm, though, and the ranger got it down and walked amongst us, letting us get close up pictures and rub the thick, woolly fur on its back while she explained a bit about the drowsy animals. They sleep around 20 hours a day, as they receive so little nutrition and energy from the eucalyptus leaves that make up their exclusive diet. They even get water from the leaves, so they often don't leave a tree for days at a time, sleeping and eating in the same perch. Koala is actually an Aboriginal word that means 'no drink.' See, I'm still learning? I've just traded random animal facts for the expected values, moment generating functions, conditional probabilities and credibility factors. Anyway, we got to meet the koalas for a while before moving on to the echidnas, which have a soft, furry underside, as opposed to their thick spikes on the top that helps them safely burrow away from predators.

Even more exciting was the reptile box, though. A huge container carried some native lizards and the big attraction, the huge diamond python. This snake was over six feet long, and parts of it were as wide as my arm (my forearm, not my bulging biceps, of course). The handler played with the snake and draped it over her neck and shoulders as she walked around and allowed us to touch the smooth scales of the massive serpent. Then, she came out of the enclosure and gave each of us a chance to hold the snake. The girls were actually, surprisingly excited about the prospect, though they did let out a few squeals as the snake moved around and slithered through their arms. Again, they weren't quite aware of the animal, and the handler had to jump in a few times and grab the snake just before the girls let it fall to the ground when they ran away from it or ducked out from underneath it, just as it was resting on their shoulders. I also had my chance, and the heavy snake was luckily very calm and slowly made its way around my neck and arms, enjoying the warmth of our skin on its cold blooded body. After the wildlife exhibit, I wanted to make it up to Canberra, so I had to get going. I got stuck in a long conversation with one of the mothers, but I soon freed myself and hit the road.

Canberra, the capital of Australia, was a purposefully created city, about halfway between the two largest cities, Melbourne and Sydney. This means that it's basically in the middle of nowhere, so I headed inland along one of the country roads, passing through some scenic eucalyptus forests and farmlands, hoping to make it to the city before the early setting sun. Passing through a few tiny towns, I stopped for some disappointing Chinese food and realized that the sun was setting far too quickly for me to make it into town. Needing to catch up on a few hours of internet, I figured I could just spend some time at an internet cafe, find some cheap gas and leave town to find a spot to sleep on the road, then come back in the morning. As I finally neared the town, the night had completely enveloped the town and surrounding roads, leaving me to find my way through the deserted streets of the city. I found the one internet cafe, which was surprisingly more expensive than some of the small towns, and I also was surprised to see that gas was much more expensive than I thought, so I tried to hold out for a cheaper station to appear in the distance. I spent a few hours catching up on a few things online, and I soon found that it was after midnight, so I decided to find a place to stay for the night, temporarily thinking about staying in the parking lot in the middle of the city but deciding that it wouldn't be the safest or quietest option.

So, I headed up the highway, leaving town and hoping for a rest area and a gas station. A few miles outside of town, I realized that the gas tank was very, very low, so I hoped for a stop and saw a sign for petrol, but the turnoff seemed to lead into complete darkness and no sign of civilization, so I turned around and headed back for the main road, knowing that I didn't have fuel to waste, and if there were a gas station, it would probably be closed at this time of night. So, I coasted down the hills and slowly made my way back up, hoping to use as little fuel as possible as I surveyed every nook and cranny in the side of the road, looking for a place to park. Just as I exited the Australian Capital Territory (ACT), I found a rest area, right by the highway, that would work. The night was far from restful with loud trucks passing by and waking me up at all hours, so I only had about five hours of sleep before heading back in town for some daylight and hopefully not running out of gas. I eventually did find a working gas station just in time, filled up the van and made my way into the nondescript city. As described, it has a few nice buildings but it lacks much character or anything really noteworthy. In fact, I didn't even take one picture in the area, so that should tell you something. One good point, though: The Pancake Parlour, an underground restaurant with some huge, "lovely" pancakes that were the perfect breakfast/lunch combo. Anyway, it's back to the coast and eventually the Blue Mountains in the next few days for me...

(Squeaky Beach in the morning light.)

(A typical overlook in Wilson's Promontory NP...I believe this one was Norman's Overlook)

(A shot of the gum trees/eucalytpus along the roads to Croajingolong)

(Bruce the resident koala and the one that we were allowed to pet)

(Bruce on the left and Susie on the right, waiting for the new leaves to be brought in)

(Extreme closeup of Bruce)

(Me holding Penelope, the six and a half foot diamond python)

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Looking for a Place to Sleep/Wildlife Wonderland

As I left the Great Ocean Road, I thought I may be able to find a place to sleep before I got back to the main cities of Geelong or Melbourne, but my camera battery was running low, so I figured that I'd instead make it into one of the small towns along the way to either buy an adapter to charge the battery in the car or just stay in a hostel for the night and use the outlets and maybe even have a nice shower in the morning. As I went from town to town, I was disappointed and increasingly frustrated to find stores closed at very early hours or non-existent, barely missing out on a good dinner at the kebab place and barely missing out on the one electronics store that may have what I was looking for. I decided that I'd just head back through Melbourne and hope to find a quiet rest area or something on the other side of town, not really knowing where I'd end up, though hoping to find a place, as it was already pitch black and 8 pm, much later than I'd like to be on the road, especially considering the warnings of wildlife coming onto the roads at nights. With a plethora of signs and traffic, I made my way back into Melbourne, spotting the city lights from a grand bridge going over the Yarra River and arriving at the city just before going underground for a few kilometers to bypass the major roads of the city. As I came out of the tunnel, I went through two toll checkpoints that were completely unannounced and really, really angered me, as there were absolutely no signs or warnings of the upcoming tolls, and the only way to pay the toll is with a pre-paid card, from what I'd read in a book earlier. I was already mad that I couldn't find a place to stay, and knowing that I'd have a fine waiting for me when I turned in my rental car didn't help things. Place after place along the road looked promising only to be closed or full or something else. Eventually, I decided that I'd just drive all the way to Phillip Island, about 2 hours past Melbourne along the Southern coast, my next big attraction. As I pulled into the island, I found it to be much larger than expected, though equally disappointing in terms of finding a place to stay. After searching through a variety of motorcamps and alleged hostels, I gave up and headed for the beach. The signs clearly disallowed camping, but I was out of options, so I parked in the corner of the parking lot and hoped that no one would notice. I also set my alarm for early the next morning and was pleased to be awoken to the sound of that, rather than some random police office banging on the window.

I quickly washed up in the nearby bathrooms and hit the road, hopefully before anyone realized that I had spent the night in the illegal spot. The main draw of Phillip Island is the nightly Penguin Parade, but that doesn't occur until dusk, so I had to find something else to do for the day. On the way down, I had noticed a wildlife park that touted either Wombat World or Wombat Wonderland, so I knew that I'd have to check it out. While I waited on Phillip Island, I spoke with the visitor's information center clerk and actually talked her into letting me recharge my camera battery there while I got breakfast. After some food and walking around town, I grabbed my battery and headed to Wildlife Wonderland. I had thoroughly enjoyed the first park, and I thought this one had potential to be even better. At only about $8 or 9, I certainly couldn't pass up the chance to play with some more animals. The larger park touted a few of the world's largest earthworms and a large earthworm shaped display, but the wombats were what attracted me. This park particularly relies on visitors on tour buses on the way down to see the penguins, meaning that it's mostly busy in the late afternoon, so I had most of the park to myself. I soon found the first great attraction, the home of the wombats, and I couldn't wait to go in. The enclosure starts with a dark, winding tunnel into a small hut, simulating walking into one of the wombat's tunnels. Inside is a dark room that feels like the underground for the nocturnal marsupials that look a bit like a mix of a short, fat dog and a koala. The first one that I found apparently had only been caught a few days earlier and still wasn't too happy with humans, evidenced by hissing/purring noise that it made as I stuck my head in the enclosure. I moved to the next stone wall surrounding another cage and found a much more friendly wombat. I was soon greeted by Jason, one of the owners, who was holding one of the smaller wombats (about 20 pounds), and he asked if I'd like to get my picture with it. Of course, I sat down on the chair and cradled the small wombat, which had been raised from infancy, as its mother was killed by a passing car, so it was completely calm and used to human contact. The adorable animal seemed to really like its handlers, and I was so happy to be able to touch one, let alone hold it.

Next, I moved on to the kangaroo enclosure, which was open, giving me an opportunity to be surrounded by grey and a few red kangaroos. Being one of the only visitors that morning also meant that the kangaroos were anxious for the food bags that I was holding, and the 18 or 20 animals soon surrounded me, begging for food and fighting their way to the front. These were larger than the wallabies that I had seen before, a few of them about 3 or 4 feet tall while sitting down, even taller than me when fully standing and extending their back legs. As before, they grabbed my hands and bags with their hands (thought not so tiny this time), and a few of them even grabbed my thighs and pulled me in one direction or another, trying to get their share of the food. With my back to the wall, I was actually a bit cornered, so I made my way out of the scrum and around into the open space before resuming the feeding. A few of the kangaroos also had babies (joeys) with their small heads sticking out of the pouches of the mothers. The owner even pulled one of them out to show us, as he has to pull them out every week to weigh them and check their health, so the mother was used to it. The fur of these kangaroos was also fairly soft, showing that they were well taken care of. Absolutely loving the experience of being able to feed, touch and interact with these strange animals, I forced myself to move on, observing some of the beautiful and colorful birds of Australia, some emus and dingoes and a few alpaca before moving on to the final enclosure.

The final enclosure had a few small wallabies and the resident koalas. One of the wallabies, FJ, seemed extremely friendly, and I found out later that he actually lives in the house with the owners and has been raised by them, hence the predilection for people. Just as I was asking how quickly these little guys could hop around, FJ put on a display, speeding around the large enclosure in lightning-quick bursts, as the other owner told me that they can get up to about 35 mph. Next, the owners took the koalas down from their trees and I was able to pet them and get a few pictures. The soft, grey fur is very thick, and the docile animal seemed fine with me petting it and examining its long claws and cartilage plate on the backside that allows it to comfortably sit in the forks of trees for nearly its whole life. Getting all of its water and nutrients from the eucalyptus trees, they rarely come down to the forest below, so that's quite an important feature for them. I spoke more with the owner, Jason and Darren, and they were actually nice enough to invite me to come back to the park later and have dinner with them, if I wanted to meet up after the penguins. Excited about the prospect, I headed back to Phillip Island for the other shows of the day. I first stopped at the koala conservation center, which featured some wild koalas with some raised boardwalks which was a pretty cool experience, though not as unique as it would have been without my previous few days of koala adventures.

Next, I went to the end of Phillip Island for the super-touristy Penguin Parade. Every night of the year, hundreds of Little Penguins (that's the actual species, I think also known as Blue or Fairy Penguins) come in to the same beach from the water and make their way up to the grass and shrubs, exhausted from the day's hunt. Along the beach are some stadium lights and bleachers, packed with tourists watching the spectacle unfold. I got to the area early before the large tourist buses, paid my money and got a front row seat, about an hour before dusk and the onslaught of penguins. After being crunched by an Indian family that apparently lacked the same values of personal space, I saw the first few penguins out in the water, waiting to come ashore a few minutes after the sky grew dark. Being only about a foot tall, the penguins congregate in the water until they have a large group, hoping that the protection of the large group will help them make it safely back to their nests. The first group of about 8 birds emerged from the water, took a few cautious steps forward and then made a run for it. They quickly waddled past us and into the brush before slowly down and making their way individually back to their own nests. Then, the next group was massive. Around 60 birds huddled together, ducked down and sprinted up the beach. The chirping, whistling and squawking was all around us as they made their way around the bleachers. The tiny little penguins swam around, came ashore, got frightened and jumped back in the water, and this cycle continued for about 45 minutes as somewhere between 200 and 300 penguins came ashore. The best part was upon leaving, the people follow a raised boardwalk along which the penguins walk, so we got right next to them, and a few of the faster ones even walked right beside me as I made my way up the hill. Unfortunately, photos are banned from the whole event, as they might scare the penguins, so I only was able to take pictures of their pictures that they were selling.

Happy about the penguins, but more excited about the wildlife park, I headed back and met Jason and Darren for dinner. We grabbed some Chinese food and headed back to their house, a large ranch style house just across from the wildlife park. Their house was a little boy's dream: arcade games, pinball machines, air hockey, snake skins hanging out to dry, four or five large snake enclosures featuring pythons and a venomous brown snake, and FJ, the small wallaby just hanging out on the couch. We had some drinks and played with the animals before heading back to the park at around 9:30. They had told me that the park was a different place at night, so I was excited to see the animals again, behind the scenes. We entered the park and headed straight for the wombats. The small wombats, Lolly and Gracie, were clearly happy to see us, and we soon jumped into their pen and played with them as they ran under and between our legs. Then Darren pulled them out of the pen, and they gleefully chased him around the room, moving surprisingly fast with their short, stubby legs and bodies. Just like a happy dog, they followed their owners around and around, looking as though they could play all night long. I couldn't believe that I was able to be playing with these wombats, and I was amazed at how friendly they were. After that, Jason and Darren also had an extra bedroom, so they even gave me a place to stay for the night, so I was really thankful for that, to have a night in from the van and a nice shower in the morning. These guys were so incredibly nice to me, and it was such a great treat for me to be able to play with all of these animals for so long. When we got home, FJ eventually made his way into the bedroom and got under the comforter, ready to go to bed. Just like a pet, he roamed the house, hopping around and jumping onto the sofa and chairs, watching his owners move from room to room.

The next day, Jason, Darren and I headed back to the wildlife park, and I got another quick tour of the place. Of course, I played with the wombats again and fed the kangaroos before having to say goodbye to my great hosts and the excellent park. It was just by chance that I had met these guys, and they made my trip there so memorable. I didn't want to leave, but I knew that I had to get going to my next stop: Wilson's Promontory.

(The first wombat, playing around in his hay, though not too happy to see me. He wasn't used to humans and was growling at me. It probably didn't help that I growled back.) (Me holding Lolly, the young wombat that was quite fond of humans and oh so cute.)(The barrage of kangaroos following me and my food bag as I tried to escape. You can see how they lean forward onto their front paws and then drag their back legs forward to move short distances instead of hopping.)(That's FJ, the pet wallaby of the owners.)(Darren showing off the koala as I pet it.)(Emma and her cute little pot belly, posing for a few pictures.)(Feeding FJ as he grabbed my hand, just to make sure I don't take the food away. The little hands are suprisingly strong.)(Another kangaroo to feed, another smile on my face)

(Look at the joey in the pouch)

(Not my original picture, but a picture of someone else's picture of the Penguin Parade)(Darren playing in the pen with Gracie (with the white spot) and Lolly. I also got to enter the pen and join the fun.)

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In Search of the Platypus

With some rather odd, nondescript directions, I made my way through some very dark, windy roads, presumably through some forest to the edge of what was said to be Lake Elizabeth, though I couldn't see a thing in the darkness of the cloudy night. I parked my van in one of the flat spots and waited for morning and our platypus sightseeing tour. As with the koala, but even moreso, I have always loved the platypus, doing book reports and presentations on it while in elementary school, even creating a larger than life-sized papier-mache model for one of my classes. It was such an elaborate creation that we were sad to see it go, so we actually buried it in the yard of my house. Needless to say, seeing a platypus for me wouldn't just be another random experience. It would be something that would be one of my earliest dreams fulfilled, and I was really excited as I tried to fall asleep. However, I tried not to build up the event too much, as the ranger from the wildlife park said that he'd only seen two of them in his 50-some years in Australia and that they are quite hard to find. I awoke a few different times during the night, dreaming that I'd missed my alarm and the tour, only to find that it was still the wee hours of the morning. Finally, it was 5:45, and I got my things together in the complete darkness just as two cars pulled up, presumably the tour guide and his guests. As the blonde, bearded man came up to my window, he announced that he was indeed Bruce (though I didn't even get his name over the phone), and I met the British couple and their two young children that would be accompanying me on the tour. We grabbed the paddles and flashlights and headed off into the darkness of the woods.

Along the way, the five and six year old children were getting a little restless, being up so early in the morning and not being able to see anything in front of them, though they were quickly wooed by the shining lights hidden in the rock walls, given off by the glowworms. Hundreds of little white lights glowed in the darkness, hidden during the day behind the ferns and undergrowth of the forest. Fifteen minutes after beginning our long, dark walk, we arrived at the edge of a tiny lake, the clearing providing just the slightest hint of the morning light. Mist and darkness stood over the lake, looking eerily like one out of a suspense film with dead tree stumps standing tall throughout the lake, which had apparently been created by a landslide that blocked the river in the 1950s. Bruce slid the two canoes into the water and tied them together, forming a sort of catamaran, and the six of us jumped in and glided along the silent, glassy water. Lake Elizabeth is known to be the home of six or seven platypuses (he used this as the plural, so I will too), so we were hoping that we'd be lucky to see them. In the slightest light, he said that they will first appear as silver streaks in the water. Only fifteen minutes of slow rowing through the untouched water and he spotted some movement in the distance. Far off, I could see the small, slender outline of something along the water's surface for a few seconds before it dove down again to feed. We circled around the lake, looking this way and that, seeing bubbles and silhouettes. Soon, the light began to come through the mist, and we slid in and out of the tree stumps, following the platypuses as they went up and down between feeding and resting and catching their breath. It was incredible to see them moving effortlessly through the water as we tried to follow along, trying not to make noise or disturb the timid creatures. A few would surface near our boats for 10 or 15 seconds before diving back down, getting away from whatever large creature appeared to be watching them from the surface. Despite never getting a super close-up view of the animal, it was unbelievable for me to actually be able to see one of these amazing anomalies of nature that had almost reached a mythical standing in my mind. I couldn't help but think how happy I was to really see one and how proud my younger self would have been to know that I'd actually see one in the wild. All in all, we had about 15 or 20 platypus spottings during the three hour tour, ranging from about 20 feet from the boat to all the way across the tiny lake (maybe 150 yards in length) and being anywhere from just a moment above the surface to a minute or so of chewing their food and catching their breath. The lake itself was also a very peaceful experience, so the tour was definitely worth the money, and I was thankful that I was able to find such a random thing.

As we headed back to our cars in full daylight, I saw the huge, white-trunked eucalyptus trees and large ferns that covered the thick forest around the lake and my sleeping spot from the night before. I thanked Bruce for another amazing wildlife encounter, and I headed off down the road. My next stop was a pair of waterfalls in the same area that I'd seen in a few photography books. A small, tightly packed dirt road amongst the thick forest led me to Hopetoun Falls, the first of my stops, and just before arriving, I turned the corner to see my first wild wallaby sitting on the edge of the road, before hopping off into the woods as it heard my car approaching. Walking down to Hopetoun Falls was a steep trail, leading through more ferns and gum trees before revealing a small creek and some impressive 35 foot falls over a sheer escarpment into the water and mossy green rocks below. Not content with the view from the lookout, I jumped the wooden railing and headed onto the rocks for a better view. The views at first were great, but when I made a step for the rocks, I realized that they were incredibly slippery. A few key words came out that made me glad there were no children around, and I soon found my foot slipping into the cold water. I braced myself with my hand as my right foot went in about shin deep and my left toe was also submerged, just for good measure. I pulled my foot out as quickly as it had fallen in, but I could already feel the wetness in my shoes. My shoe and sock were completely soaked, which I knew would make for a fun walk back up the trail. In spite of the shoe incident, I did get some good pictures and marveled at the picturesque place, all to myself.

My wet foot and I next moved on to Triplet Falls, which was another one hour trail to the falls. These falls were much larger, a series of large cascades falling over large boulders and inclines, though they were significantly less photogenic. As I arrived to the lookout, an older couple was just leaving to go back up the steep hill, so I figured I'd admire the water for a while to give them time to get back to the car park. I guess I misjudged their speed, but I headed back up the hill and was soon upon them. I said a few words politely as I went by, and apparently they were in the mood for talking. As I slowed down, they told me all about their travels from nearby South Australia and asked about mine, also reminiscing about the wife's trip to America in 1976 and other random facts. I meandered back and forth, knowing that I didn't have much time left before I'd need to hit the road and get back to down before the last of daylight but not wanting to leave them behind. I took in more stories of them digging for opals and being proud of me for enjoying my "early retirement," and we eventually made it back to the parking lot, where I bid them farewell and headed back to the coast for the last part of the Great Ocean Road and a potential spot to sleep.

(A few more shots of the Great Ocean Road first)

(Note the nice rainbow)
(London Bridge - these two landmasses used to be connected, but the land bridge in between the two collapsed in 1990, leaving two tourists temporarily stranded on the part on the right until a helicopter rescued them.)

(Lake Elizabeth in the early morning.)

(The road along the way to Triplet Falls)

(Scenic Hopetoun Falls, taken with one wet foot)

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