Jenny's Trek Down Under

How do you adequately describe the sensation of standing on a deserted beach lined with coral, white sands and the lush vegetation of the rainforests surrounding. Spent a morning giving into the laziness of a sunny day that seems to have drained all of my energy and left me on the verge of continual collapse. A morning spent walking to Cow Bay gently falling into the bosom of the rainforest in a bed of mother nature, off the beaten path, vines securing me in their embrace. Dozing in and out of consciousness with the primal sounds of nature abounding--the mating calls of exotic birds, the scuffling of leaves and twigs under the weight of birds, wild pigs and human size rats--the state of being where I feel if I rise too fast I will black out, my mind operating at a foreign pace of snail like speed--every sound taking what feels like an eternity to register, but for the most part my mind remains blank. Barely mustering the strength to break this lazy sleep I walk back to the beach and make my way to two smaller beaches--again deserted. Climbing over a few boulders here and there. The sky still cloudy, but the heat of the sun starting to break through. the calming lull of the water crashing, crashing gently, almost crawling ashore the sandy beach. I find a rock that seems to have been carved just to fit the natural curves of my body. I let my body curl up into the ridges of the rock, my mind again empty. I fall asleep and awake abruptly as a result of the intense heat beating down on my body. I make my way to the water, letting the waves crash against my legs as the water seems to pull both sand and rock from under my feet--yet I remain planted firm in my tracks. The sensation of being pulled in two directions feels oddly comfortable and relaxing especially with the water at that perfect temperature--not too hot not too cold.

My 8 day outback experience began with a full on 4wd hardcore safari style jeep picking me up outside my hostel where I was greeted by the Bounty hunter himself...well that is if the bounty hunter was a 40 something brown hair mullet toting harley davidson obsessed motorcycle junkie name Sauce...yes sauce as in barbeque, tomato and the Ozzie favorite Sweet Chilli. Sauce had this way of talking to you where everything came out with some sort sort of sexual innuendo--like he could tell you about his mom dying of cancer yet make your skin crawl at the same time with his constant winking and bobbling of the head--very much the Quagmire of Family Guy...mixed with a bit of Matthew McCaunaughey's character in 'Dazed and Confused.' From the get go Sauce wouldn't tell us his real name and liked to live in the land of mystery--only revealing the occasional crazy past tour stories...that's when I started to realize it's not so much that he was secretive, but really the life of a tour guide is his tours...there is no distinction between his social life and his job--the hours are relentless with him averaging about 10 days off in 6 months. Anyways I'm too lazy to really describe my Oz experience of the last 11 days, but a quick recap as follows:
1. Driving in complete emptiness--we're talking red desert for hundreds of kilometers without seeing a single soul in sight, with no roads carving our path, being forced to forge our own way against the untamed forces of the great outback. Then out of nowhere happening upon random little pubs in small towns of about 8 imbred people that all want to be your best friend for the night.
2. Playing 8 ball into the wee hours of the night, kicking back a few Pure Blondes and paying our civic duty to the local pub by leaving behind IDs, clothing items or shoes to hang on the wall.
3. Sleeping in swags which are basically like freezer bags that you zip your sleeping bags in...but imagine it being about 28/26 degrees farenheight...sleeping in a sleeping bag that has a hole in the foot of it...how you might ask? it's called sleeping in your car for 2 months and kicking the pedals in your sleep...so yeah a sleeping bag with a hole in a swag...creates many a sleepless nights...but when I tell you the stars were unreal--there are just no words. Being able to sleep under the stars, falling asleep to shooting stars, full moons and the outline of mountains under the night sky...oh and the horrible snoring of numerous members of my group...well truely unforgettable.
4. The french couple who were utterly convinced that all Americans are in gangs...and so to be fair I played along--they even went so far to ask if I had to beat people up to gain entry into the gang...and that's when my story about fleeing the country for 6 months began to unravel...let's just say with the story I painted I'm basically the Godfather of the burbs.
5. Sleeping underground at Cooper Pedy and spending the afternoon noodling for opals in a big mine only to leave with many a shiny rock to add to my ever growing exciting NZ rock collection--no opals struck this time.
6. Climbing Ayres rock...okay so I know it's kind of sacreligious and I probably will have bad luck for the rest of my life...but it was a once and a lifetime opportunity and I don't regret my decision. Climbing up the face of the biggest monolith against a piercing blue sky, hot desert sun and a crazy Dutchie constantly trying to lead me off the side of the rock to my death below...and those damn ADD kids running up the rock nearly knocking me off time and time again.
7. Climbing Mt. Olsen in the Flinders Range an hour before the rest of my group...spending the early hours watching the sun come up 'meditating' on a rock...only to discover I had spent this reflective period sitting on a rock inscribed with the poetic words 'billy J and Kristin did it here'...no wonder it felt so spiritual...I'd even go as far as to describe it as biblical at that spot.
8. Being dared to jump into a 50meter deep pool of near glacial freezing water in all my clothes to swim to a a massive waterfall hidden behind the rocks--it was the kind of swim where your breath becomes shallow as you fight the plunging temperatures, but the feeling of standing against the rocks, underneath a powerful waterfall staring straight up into neverending rocky cliffs and blue skies...again memorable.
9. A crazy man named Talc Alf who lives literally in the middle of nowhere...with his nearest neighbor a good 250km away...spending an afternoon describing to us his theories on language and the universe...to be all honest I zoned out the minute he described the letter M as forming from women's breasts...because an M resembles a woman's chest...hence why 'm' is also the first letter of mother...yeah so he was a bit eccentric and looked like Kris Kringle meets the owner of Jurassic Park...the most exciting thing was the dingo that lurked on his property...oh and his insightful revelation that my name meant 'journey to a place to settle'...deep stuff no?
10. Roger...he is my favoritist old man to date...honestly I hate to admit it but he was like my little puppet...I said dance he said fox trot or waltz...I said make music and the man beat his hands across the bench...okay so yeah he was almost 70, but he was so quirky and honestly reminded me of the sunbaked woman from 'there's something about mary'...the man was on speed and could not read social situations at all...but alas he was wonderful.
11. Getting picked up by some random person in Alice Springs on their harley and spending the afternoon with the wind in my hair, the pedal to the metal and holding onto dear life as we navigated our way through the sunkissed baren landscape.
12. Crocodile Safari...between the crocodiles, buffalos, wild camels, kangaroos and wallabees...it felt straight out of Africa.
13. The regular questioning as to whether I in fact knew the legendary Elvis...being that I'm from Maryland...because of course Maryland sounds like Graceland...and by kevin bacon's six degrees of separation logic...well, Elvis and I are practically married.
14. Catching numerous breathtaking sunrises and sunsets
15. Regularly meeting the type of people that refuel your energy, charge it and bring out the best in you--the type fo people that make any type of chemical high pale in comparison the natural highs you experience in their presence
...these are just a few...emphasis on few memories of the last 11 days...10 more days and I'm home...so hard to believe...at 4am...so like 6 hours I fly to Cairnes...where I will make my way to the great barrier reef, do some diving, then head to the rainforests of cape tribulation, might do a quick sailing trip in the WhiteSundays then head to the blue mountains and finish off in Sydney before heading home....miss and love you all and glad to hear your home safe and sound mom and dad!

So after 35+ days on the open roads I have temporarily taken up residency in Christchurch until I figure out about the next leg of my trip. Today was an 'emotional' day of sorts, I spent the entire morning cleaning up the car and packing my things away--this was no easy feat...I finally understand how people can turn their cars into further extensions of their rooms and closets--honestly how I accumulated so much crap boggles my mind. When I first came to new zealand I had my backpack, a small backpack and a large purse...after cleaning my car I had all that plus three small duffles worth of crap. Okay a lot of that is me being way too sentimental and holding onto like every damn keepsake from this trip so that when I come home I can make the most comprehnesive scrapbook ever and well the other part is those damn rocks...heavy little buggers.
As I drove the car back to the dealership all I could think about was how much has happened on my roadtrip and the interesting characters I have met along the way. Now the official count of kilometers driven was close to 4700 or so a bit less than 3000 miles roughly speaking--not bad, eh? Leaving the car at the Apex parking lot was harder then I expected...I mean this car was not only my transportation for these weeks, but many a nights I spent sleeping in it as well. So, yeah that's the confession part...up until a couple days ago Nancy and Steve were under the illusion that gertie was a campervan...campervan...nissan pulsar same difference.

Now, I can honestly say I have perfected the whole sleeping in the car system and not getting caught--seeing as how carcamping is illegal. One of my better experiences in deceiving the police was I parked my car in between two parked cars on the side of the road that had for sale signs in their windows...so I made my own sign put it in the window and had quite the lovely slumber minus the sound of traffic whizzing by and the occasional police siren in the distance causing momentary freakouts...but would I change the nights of freezing sleeplessness in the front seat with my legs wrapped around the stickshift in a makeshift fetal position...hell frickin' no--made my experience a little more off the beaten path. The one time I almost got caught which I have to admit was pretty stupid on my part....I slept in the parking lot at the visitor center in Wanaka...but mind you there were like 4 other campervans there so I thought it would be fine...wrong. At 5 in the morning I was awakened by a flashlight being shined through the passenger side window and someone yelling 'security, security open up!' The guy supposedly was being trailed by the police and was giving us a heads up to move our cars so we wouldn't get fined...I didn't get it either...nevertheless I moved my car and all was fine. I just felt in my own little way I was living on the edge...never knowing exactly where I was going to sleep for the night and wondering how I could possibly put on any more layers of clothing so that I had a fighting chance of not spending the whole night shivering. The last couple of weeks as the weather turned even colder I decided to spend the nights at holiday parks instead so I was atleast guarenteed a hot shower and hot meal every evening and finally I am staying in hostels. It's funny the more 'civilized' I have gotten throughout the course of my trip the less I have found I have enjoyed myself...it's been a hard transition to leave the world of matted hair and muddy boots for jeans and blow dryed hair...but it was bound to happen at some point or another. Although I still hold on to a bit of my ruggedness...the only shoes I have to wear at the moment are my hiking boots seeing as how my sneakers have fallen victim to the curse of the new balance...in other words the plastic lining in the heal has made its way through and left my ankle a bloody mess..and wearing flipflops in this weather would just be asking for frostbite...so dirt covered hiking boots it is...the one bonus of it all is they do add a good inch and a half to my height.
I have never been a huge fan of cities, I just have never really been able to see the appeal of them--lots of flashy lights, neon signs, the overwhelming and at times faint smell of urine in the air, littered streets and people...lots of people. But the last couple of days I have spent here in Christchurch, I'm starting to find my whole 'city perception' being shattered...okay minus the pee part. I love waking up in the morning not knowing exactly where I'm going and just getting lost in the city. Lost in that way where each street seems new and like a mystery that needs to be unraveled and each person on the street someone with a story, a history that lets my my wander. Finding cafes to make my own or walking in the botanical gardens and stopping to feed stale bread to the thousands of ducks or watch a group of older men live out their childhood dreams through handmade sail boat competitions. Or spending an afternoon sipping coffee in the main square in town, with the infamous (and yes mom in this case it works) wizard of cathedral square who preaches about god knows what and will speak his mind on any topic...to my left a lifesize chess set and a homless man playing a fellow traveler. Ahead of me the beautiful cathedral square, under construction at the moment, seagulls littered across the pavement like the trash they consume and all around me the day slowly quieting down, with the sound of a skateboard hitting against the maze of walkways...and school children all aflutter in matching kilts and navy sweaters dillydallying around with mischief on the mind and my latest book from a local used bookstore in hand.
Now with my ipod temporarily out of commission and no more gertie to rock out to billy joel and cat stevens I made a hefty purchase and invested in a $5 handheld radio. Now while standing on the street corner waiting for the pedestrian walk signal some people flipped open their cell phones and texted away...I extended the antennae from my radio. I just had to smile at myself thinking about how ridiculous I look in this day and age with a radio in hand with an antennae a good foot and a half extended and my walmartesque fleece...I have honestly gotten more stares since toting this radio...people just seem in awe that a real life radio still exists and that someone is actually using one.
Well, I hope all is well with everyone and happy father's day especially to you dad...sorry none of us kids could be there to celebrate with you...but I'll sit and watch some tv in your honor tonight!

Most tourists who visit New Zealand bypass the journey along the southern scenic route all together and head straight from queenstown to Dunedin. Since I had the time I decided to take the road less traveled and head to Dunedin via Invercargill and along the rugged Catlins Coast. The Catlins are well known for their untamed coastline and multiple opportunities to view local wildlife.
The week I drove along the coast was one of the windiest times I have ever experienced. With southwesterly winds up to 120km/hr for the first time in my travels it was not me driving my car, but rather mother nature. I felt my car constantly veering towards the left...now, the left would be a 200m drop into a raging ocean and jagged cliffs...all I could think was if only the car would veer right instead..I'm sure hitting oncoming traffic would be a lot less painful then those sharp rocks...morbid maybe, but hey we all have these thoughts some time or another.
I seemed to stop the car every 10 minutes to hike to some remote little waterfall or tramp my way through soggy mud and grass to wetlands or a beach. On one particular stop I made my way to a beach called jemstone beach. The name came as no surprise as the pebbled beach seemed to shimmer in jade, ruby reds, emerald greens, cobalt blues. Never much of a seashell collector I decided to collect rocks--exciting I know...but they were just too beautiful to walk past. As I collected these rocks stuffing them into my 'cough' poncho 'cough' all I could think of was what a hypocrite I was. A few years before I had spent my summer working at zion national park telling the kids countless times that you should not take rocks because if every person who visited zion national park took one rock before you knew it it would no longer be zion national park...but rather zion national flatlands and who would want to visit there? (this would be the moment when the 6 year olds would burst out into giggles...so feel free to...) anyways at that moment, I said fuck it...I'm sure half those kids will end up in gangs or in jail anyways....so I loaded up...I can't lie the thought did run through my head that these authentic new zealand rocks would make great gifts to give back home...okay that might make me seem a little cheap...but honestly how many people can say they have a real live rock from new zealand...exactly. That was until the other day I was shuffling through my stuff and discovered that my prized rubies and emeralds now just looked black and dirty...apparently the way the water and sun was hitting the rocks that day made them look special...but alas they were just your run of the mill rocks...but no worries each of you is still getting one of them as a souvenier!
So, my experience in the catlins was kind of like a mini high school reunion. I was constantly running into fellow travelers that I had seen during earlier days in my travels...so here I went from traveling down the west coast where I could easily travel 200km and not see a single soul to running into the same people city after city. There was the lovely french couple that was too stereotypical for words...they were the most over affectionate overly food obsessed people I have ever met. There was simon and sara the british couple who I played a rousing game of scrabble with and ended up representing for America...then there were the two identical twin red headed sisters well nothing too exciting to note about them...but they did have red hair...Lewis family pride what what? Lastly there was the German...for a period of three days every single random stop I made along the way he was there...so we got to talking inside the hyde...(which is a little wooden hut you sit in while watching penguins make their way up from the water to the shore) and I learned he just like myself was doing the whole solo traveling thing by car...now back to the penguins...the penguins alone made my travel down the coast more than worth it....within a span of an hour 5/6 penguins slowly made their way to shore...floating along in the water, waddling up the shore, hopping up the dirt path and finally out of sight...and further down the shore were sea lions and seals...not a bad way to spend a rainy afternoon.
Then there was Zabita who I met in a deserted holiday park...now Zabita had one of those uncomofrtably short haircuts that left you guessing for the first hour whether or not Zabita was infact a boy or girl...that and the fact that she was of the British persuasion where not one word out of her mouth sounded remotely like english. It was so freezing that night that we ended up having a contest to see how many layers we each could wear...I had 22 shirts on top and a jacket, 8 pairs of pants on the bottom and 13 pairs of socks....I was toasty...speaking of toasty....burnt...there was the matter of my craptowel that just wouldn't dry so I had the 'genius' idea to get out a frying pan place my towel in it...you can see where this is heading...so yes I set the craptowel on fire...so now everytime I shower I am left with little pieces of burnt towel all over me...