After a swim in the Lagoon and a bit of lunch, we headed up the eastern beach to Cape Moreton lighthouse to watch whales, dolphins and turtles laze offshore. The pic on the right is a view of the eastern oceanward beach, our 4WD, and some other 4WD copping our turf. Geez. Check out the white dunes in from the coast. We then headed over to the village of Bulwer, pop. 100 for groceries and a bottle shop. The streets were loose sand, and the locals walk around barefoot. While an idyllic existence, I'll bet the nightlife isn't too happening.

Next, we drove down the western leeward side of the island to the Tangalooma Wrecks for a bit of snorkelling. At one time, Tangalooma was a whaling station, and the Wrecks were old boats scuttled about 60m from shore decades ago to provide safe harbour for the whaling vessels. Nowadays, the Wrecks are home to a variety of aquatic life and a few recreational moorings. We reached them later in the afternoon, and thus the light was fading, the air cooling, the water murkier, and fish less active. I still managed to see a fair bit, and I know I saw something really big down there at one point, but couldn't make out what it was. We stuck around long enough to catch the sunset (pic on the left), then headed back to camp for dinner.

My fellow "troopers" retired shortly after that, leaving me to my own devices, so I wandered down to the beach, a ten-minute walk. The moon was out and bright enough to read by, so I could see forever down the coast, and no one else was around. I walked along for a while, taking in the roar of the ocean, and the feeling of solitude and expansiveness.

The next day, Xavier and Martine wanted to give the snorkelling another try, while Elyssa and I wanted to see something new, and thus hiked to the top of Mt. Tempest, a bush-covered mountain of sand and the highest point on the island. It was a nice day, so we could see the length of the island from tip to tip, as well as Brisbane and the mainland to the east and North Stradbroke Island to the south. Checked out the slow-growing grass trees, which have fire resistant bark and a long stick of a flower that the Aborigines used to use for spears.

Once we reunited with the rest of the group, we learned that they had seen two humpback whales between the Wrecks and the shore! Xavier and Sol had had the whales swim right underneath them. Aw man, stupid mountain hike! However, the whales were apparently freaked out by a boat moored in their intended escape route, and had been acting skittish. I was also assured that the rest of the snorkelling had been pretty poor. Surrre it was.

After returning for lunch and a pack-up of the camp, we headed up to enjoy the afternoon on the island's northern beaches, where we hiked around the rocks, watched kids play in rock pools continually filled by the tide, and swam in the surf. Sadly, the ferry picked us up at 3:30, brought us back to the mainland, and me to a shade of reality.

I met back up with Sabrina and Jeff for one last night in Brizzy, where we feasted, drank, and desserted quite heartily (well, not Jeff, he was serving). It was great to see the two of them. Sab is a friend from school that I rarely get to see anymore due to our respective adventures. Due to changing work circumstances, they likely won't be staying much longer in Oz either, and I wish the two of them the best in their next journey. Enjoy Fiji folks!

I also wanted to thank Joe Percy for the map of Brisbane he gave me before I left Adelaide. I used it quite extensively to explore the city, as evidenced by the ripped creases and now-soft paper.

As for me, it was time for the next chapter: the return to Byron Bay for a bit of a longer stay.

First of all, I'd like to say it was nice to talk to my mom yesterday (Oct 19), the first time I'd spoken to her since leaving Canada, and nice to hear a familiar voice at a time when I'm a little unsettled due to upcoming trip planning and the last few details of my present adventure.

Second, I'm trying to bang out details of the excursion into Bali, Thailand and Cambodia at a time when I'm a little travel weary, and used to a Western language and frame of mind. The more I look into these new exotic places, the more I feel a little overwhelmed with what I'm thinking about taking on. If anyone who reads this has any recommendations for me about any of these places, I'm more than happy to hear them! I could use the help. In the meantime, back to some catch up.

While in Brisbane, I read about Moreton Island, located off the coast from where the Brisbane River meets the sea, and signed myself up for a 2-day, 1-night adventure. Therefore, Monday October 2nd found me up before 6 for the second day in a row (and you thought I was on vacation). After waiting with puffy eyes at Roma Street Bus Station for a while, a 4WD Toyota Landcruiser pulled up with several coolers and surfboard mounted on the roof. Out jumped Sol, our tour guide and driver for the next two days. From the looks of the others waiting for pick-ups, I feared it was to be two days of several couples plus Conrad. Once Sol announced the Moreton tour, however, I met the rest of the people who would actually be joining me, a pretty small group. Basically, there was Elyssa, a veteranary (sp?) student from Italy, Xavier, an engineer from Switzerland though now based in Sydney, and his girlfriend/wife (never really found out) Martine, a personal trainer and HR exec.

After about an hour's drive, we arrived at the port and drove aboard the MICAT ferry, which took us on a gentle cruise across Moreton Bay (at the mouth of the Brisbane River) to Moreton Island. As we neared the island, we gently passed the Tangalooma Wrecks, a line of slowly rusting relics about 60m off the shore. The ferry pulled right up to the beach, no pier needed since the cat only sinks 2-3m below the surface. We drove off the boat and onto the sand.

Moreton Island, like the more famous Fraser Island, is almost entirely made of sand. Eons ago, a volcano erupted (the largest on record in the world in fact, the remains of which make up Mt Warning and surrounding ranges in the Byron area), scattering huge masses of lava and rock about and into the sea. A northerly flowing river of coastal sand built up on the south end of this lava rock, and over time, rooted vegetation emerged to bind the sand together to sustain life. Moreton is now covered with dense bush, while Fraser even has rainforest. Since I had opted out of Fraser for some reasons of convenience, Moreton seemed a good substitute.

A series of 4WD-only roads cut across and along the island, most of which is protected land. The inland roads were either pot-holed or softly grooved (making the mountain-biker in me tense up), while along the beaches, the tides pack and flatten the sand so that the truck could go full out. Sometimes the holes worked out with the axes to give the 4WD a hilarious bouncing motion; other times they were spaced disadvantageously for the wheel base, tipping the truck at extreme angles to the sound of the chassis groaning and anonymous hooks clinking away. To get from the beach to the inland, one has to keep their eyes on gaps in the dunes, because these obscure "exits" are only occasionally marked. Furthermore, it was the beginning of some sort of school holiday, so there was actually traffic - tons of offwhite 4WD on the roads, apparently unusually busy. I had to hand it to Sol, it takes a bit of skill to negotiate the island, and he did so casually while expounding on trivia about the island or stories of his adventures growing up on the Gold Coast and travelling abroad. And he outdrove any of the vehicles we passed.

Our first stop was a clearing containing a field of sand and enormous sand dune known as "The Desert". We crossed the plain and plodded up and across the dune, each armed with a slab of Masonite. It was time for tobogganing! Sol would wax our boards up and give us a push, and we went hurtling down the slope, collecting sand in our pockets and teeth along the way. I tried a running start, but ended up bellyflopping into the sand just below the surface, carrying half the dune with me on the way down. I'm still finding sand in my ears.... guess THAT didn't work.

We next were taken to our camp, where we each had a little tent, and meals to be cooked by Sol. The camp was located close to Blue Lagoon, a river-fed freshwater lake that was surrounded by marshy vegetation. With the sandy bottom, it was a great spot for a swim and sand removal, and so nice to be swimming in fresh water for a change.

Road trip to Sunshine Coast. On the left is Steve Irwin's Australia Zoo, which I didn't actually go in but simply rubber-necked at the line of mourners. On the left is part of the Glasshouse Mountains.

Nice to know that the pix aren't coming across too badly, and good to hear from folks! I'm a little behind in the chronology of the trip, I realize, but speaking briefly about the present, I'm well and have just finished surfing (badly) twelve days straight. More about that later. Plans are in the works for switching my flight around in order to see Thailand, and my current thinking is if I have to go through the effort and cost, I might as well go full guns. Also on the table are Cambodia and Bali, and have also been recommended Laos and Vietnam. I'm thinking that a seven week extension of the trip is a good ballpark, bringing me back to Canada early January. Although I have been doing a bit of research, I've got a bit of quiet time coming up in which I'm going to sort all this out, as I should make some definite decisions soon. More about that later.

Lost my metronome, and another timepiece is going down the tubes. More about that later.

Back to the 29th of September, when Sab, Jeff, and I hopped in his company car (the fude-and-drinc-mobile) and headed about 90 minutes north of Brisbane to the Sunshine Coast Hinterland. We were visiting Sab and Jeff's friends Mark and Jen, whom they know from Toronto. Mark and Jen live on a 1.5 acre property in a little settlement called Mooloolah Valley, about 20 minutes from the coastal town of Maroochydore. It was seemingly a little country suburb, but many of the houses had paddocks in which horses ran around like the family dog. A pretty idyllic setting, and since the weather was gorgeous, we lazed around the pool and watched all the different tropical birds playing in the bushes. They moved here from Canada about a year or so ago, and have spent a lot of time improving the property, especially with repect to comfortable outdoor areas protected from the beating sun. Looks great, nice little veranda! This busyness was marred a bit recently, since Jen ripped her Achilles and is laid up in a cast, poor girl. Speaking of ripping, they also have a great little dog named Buddy, who loves nothing more than Tug-O-War, and tearing the heads off stuffed animals. I think we went through two a day while I was there, and often the lawn looked like some sort of kindergarten carnage with tufts of stuffing and the odd plush ear or nose.

One afternoon, we took a little road trip into the mountains to check a series of little ridge-top towns (one of which was Montville, but all I remember from the other two is that they begin with "M".... in fact, all the places around here seem to, which gets a bit confusing), and take a look at the Glasshouse Mountains, huge monoliths jutting up out of the surrounding wooded landscape. That night, we ate at a little place called Graze (located in another little M-Town), and ate the best pizza I have ever tasted: the Taj Tandoori. Chicken, banana, coriander, and lots of other good stuff.

Upon meeting Mark, I learned he was a part time dive instructor, and he asked me if I wanted to get in on a dive, which I immediately took him up on. Turns out that another part time gig is hopping in a tank and feeding sharks.... So we were up early on Sunday, and drove to the coast to dive the HMAS Brisbane. Located about 5 km offshore and 27m underwater, the Brisbane was a battleship scuttled about 15 months ago in order to start an artificial reef and provide some recreation for divers. Unlike the Yongala, which can't be entered due to it being a grave site, the Brisbane wreck is intended for diving. The ship was skeletonized, and holes were cut in the side to allow easy access for divers. Regardless of where you are in the wreck, you can always see sunlight, and there are lots of things to explore - all the rooms, smokestacks, little narrow crew tunnels. Pretty cool. I had to wear a hood and gloves, since headbumps are common (its steel construction makes it a bit unforgiving), and the ship is covered with sharp barnacles. The ship hasn't been down there that long, so not a lot of sealife has built up here, but there were a few exceptions, like spiky lionfish and big batfish. The highlight for me was the engine, a big 3 storey space with the engine and pipes running from floor to ceiling, surrounded all the way up by a swirling school of baitfish glistening in the shafts of light. Mark was my guide for my first dive, which lasted about 40 minutes, but he was forced to pack it in as he was feeling a bit sick. The trip out was quite choppy, and we were only in this little Zodiac that just bashed through the huge waves - they're tough little boats. Not good for tender stomachs though. One of the other instructors, Simon, was thus my buddy, and took me on a little personal tour all through the wreck.

Alas, the weekend had to come to an end, and we were all a little groggy from the lounging and the sun, not to mention that I'd been up at 5:30 and out in the water. We made our way back to Brisbane, as Jeff and Sab had to work, and me... well, I had another little adventure booked: Moreton Island.

The left is a cairn given by us generous Canucks to the City of Bribane (another potentially dark pic), and the right, well, they're anchors.

I mentioned that Brizzy was a major business centre. Having been on the backpacker trail for about seven weeks by that point, and blissfully unemployed for nine, it was a bit of culture shock to come back into the realm of the career-driven. I would spend mornings bumming around Sab and Jeff's, lazing in their pool or talking little walks while they had to get up and go to work every morning. Many other travellers along the way really had to sweat to find some work in order to afford their instant noodles, yet I was decadently throwing myself into one adventure after another. I started to think about deceleration, you know, when you are driving on the highway, pull into the exit for some small town, and suddenly everyone there seems to be driving achingly slow because you accustomed to travelling (and perceiving and reacting) at 130 kmh. I spent a lot of time sleeping in Brisbane, a couple of 12-hour shifts. I think I needed it, but the sudden return to a normal environment was making me skittish, and kinda useless too. I was feeling this urge to be productive, and kinda jealous of those with some stability in their lives. I know this is supposed to be a vacation, and that it would be what I made it, but when I got to Briz I was just tired of the life, of never knowing anyone, of saying goodbye, of the endless pitchers of free beer slowly going warm.

I started to brainstorm about what I was going to do when I got back, about how my life would be the same or different, about brains, bands, and birds. About whether I would look good with a mullet. One thing very apparent on this trip is that I'm sadly not in my early 20s anymore. People my age settle, partner up, propagate, disappear. Once I was finished with this little departure from reality, where was I going to be, aside from right back at the start? Could I do school again? Was I destined to hang out with folks 10 years younger than me for eternity? Was I going through a midlife crisis, and if so, why so early? Nah, I think "midlife crisis" makes it sounds like there is only one stage of life evaluation, whereas I think there will always be a need for a "directional tune-up", especially with the blind-folded manner in which I tend to do things. Midlife just sounds so...... half-final.

It was in the middle of this mental dog-chasing-tale that I stopped in at a hostel bar near the bus station, wanting to finalize some pictures before I posted them to the blog. I woman came up to my table, and started talking to me about "The Beast", some neo-consevative group being formed in Australia. She starting asking me "Can you believe it? Can YOU believe it?" In her amazement, she was crawling around on the ground, and hugging my leg to punctuate her point. Gee... uh... I guess so!?! After telling her where I was from, she said that she wanted to go to Canada, but couldn't unless someone put a rock on her finger, and she'd be good, she'd be quiet, she could cook, and clean, and stay out of my way.... Seemed like a good deal, but I decided the pix were ready, got up and left. I may be confused and prone to wandering, but I now knew I wasn't desperate.

The Friday morning after our West End/Fortitude Valley escapade, Sab wasn't doing so well, and the fact she made her meeting was a testament to her superhuman will. Of course, immediately post-meeting, she made the 7-minute walk home from work, and hit the sack. As for me, I got to sleep in, and then decided I needed to be active to take my mind off my existentialist angst. Encouraged by my friend Kelly back home, I headed across the Story Bridge to the Kangaroo Point area, and I signed up for abseiling( the Aussie term for rappelling) with a company called Riverlife. The cliffs were 23m tall, not so special from below but a lot more repectable once dangling over the side by a rope. It was 30 bucks for a 90 minute session, and it turns out my group was full of kids. This means that one at a time, each kid had to be reclad correctly in their equipment, and then be gently coaxed once at the edge and paralyzed with fear. C'mon kid. I was feeling my 90 minutes ebbing away. Was I only going to get one go? Two? No way man, so I started shoving kids out of the way until a really tough 8 year old gave me the evil eye. ;) Everyone got two turns, but I ran to the top and snagged a third go. How old am I? The third run was awesome, descending the cliff in hops and feeling the burn of the rope through my leather glove.
There you go Kel!

Alas, my 90 minutes were soon up, and I had to head back to the ranch, see if Sab could handle solid food, and then get packed. Friends of Sab and Jeff had invited them up to their house in the Sunshine Coast for the weekend, and as their adoptive teenage son, I was going too.

First off, Happy Thanksgiving everyone. I had no idea, so sorry for being such a no-show.

Secondly, I swear my dark pix look good when viewed on a flat LCD monitor. I've been a little disappointed in how dark they look on the "old" CRT monitors. Anyone have any experience with this, and how they turn out when printed? Does anyone still read this drivel, for that matter?

After a bit of a rough start in Brisbane, (due to being given the wrong address), I eventually re-united with Sabrina and Jeff. They have a great location, being in the Riverside district near the Story Bridge. The top left pic is the view from their apartment, while the right is the Story Bridge. They are within a 20 minute walk from everything of interest to me, so I spent the following days exploring the city in a progressive, petal-shaped manner.

Brisbane is the business centre of Queensland, and built along the Brisbane River, which winds its way through the city. Business suits mix with haircuts reminicent of Joan Jett, while bothe the faux-hawk and even the mullet are big looks, here. Far more attention to hairstyle than I've been used to of late.
Sab and I spent one day catching up while walking along the river through patches of mangroves, across slowly heaving floating boardwalks, past cliffs and the requisite cafes, looking for places where Sab could redeem her coupons and get us some coffees. Sailboats line the river, and many citizens simply live aboard their crafts. Passed by the Botanical Gardens, which abut the Queensland University of Technology. Nice spot for uni! The weather is fairly consistent, getting down to a chilly 22 degrees in the winter, RBG on one side, downtown on another, with the remaining sides being river.

Another day, we took the CityCat catamaran ferry down the river to a little burb called Bulimba. No swimming in the river, though. The river apparently contains bullsharks, who prey upon the unsuspecting suburbanites in the houses along man-made canals which radiate from the river outside the city.
In the heart of downtown is Queen St. Mall, a pedestrian-only shopping strip. Good place for people watching, not to mention catching some bowling (though it was expensive - 20 bucks for two games!). Also some cinemas, where I caught Talledega Nights. Ahem. Had some funny moments, but seemed more like an inside joke than an "out loud" joke.
Across the river, on the other side of downtown (a painful 20 minute walk from Sab's) is Southbank. Here is another uni, Griffith U.'s Art School, as well as a Buddhist Temple, a man-made lagoon (Streets Beach - remember, no going in the river!), a concert theatre and walking paths.

One night, we went to the West End, one of "Briz Vegas'" funkier hoods. I've heard it described as similar to Queen West, but when we arrived there on a Thursday night, stores were closing up 8pm, quite unlike the Queen West I know. We ate at a little cafe called Tongue and Groove, located in a side pocket of West End, and luckily for us, contained in Sabrina's infamous Entertainment Guide coupon book. Started out on the patio, but a fellow patron's persistence in wetly coughing up a lung made us change our minds and move inside. Later on, we hooked up with Jeff and some of his friends at a jazz bar called Satchmos. However, no jazz, so we made up for it with martinis, as well as calling our friend Shaam, because the best way to start a Friday is by getting a phonecall from two drunken idiots half a world away. This bar started putting up the chairs at 11:30 (or maybe it was us), again surprising considering the buzz about West End. Then again, I've been learning that Aussies tend to be morning people (maybe I'm generalizing a bit), since the sun is usually up and hot by 7:30.
Refusing to be daunted, we headed over to the Fortitude Valley, Brisbane's "racy" area. Apparently the area used to be overwrought with the drug trade, but gentrification has mellowed it a bit. Now it is where to find the best clubs and bars, the gay district, good ethnic food, and several notable hostels. After a nightcap, we decided we were old, and that those martinis were stronger than we thought, so another 10 minute walk, and we were home. A good idea, since she had a meeting at 8:30 the next morning.

South Molle Island.

Following the bliss of Whitehaven, we crossed the bay and around some islands to arrive at our mooring in the shadow of South Molle Island. The next morning, we were shuttled over to the island to explore. Though most of the island is protected, it does house a little resort, and we were told that this was our next stop. Upon arrival, they hit us with an entry fee that none of really expected when we embarked. Ah well. Activities on site included jet ski, kayak, and catamaran rental, as well as golf, tennis, basketball, and swimming, not to mention access to the National Park. I decided to hike up to the peak, Mt. Jeffrey. It was a nice day, so I didn't mind the walk, or the view, for that matter. Crossing back across the golf course, I watched a bunch of colourful parakeets playing in the trees, but they wouldn't hold still for the camera, so I reached OUT AND GRABBED 'EM BY THE......

kidding. I miss my birdies.

Although I would have loved to take one of the toys out on the water, it was quite pricey, and I was already a bit sketched out by the unexpected fee. A bit of a captive market.

After South Molle, it was a mellow cruise back to Airlie Beach. I wanted to try a different hostel, since the stay at the Beaches had left a bad taste in my mouth, so I checked into Magnum's with Warren. Turned out to be a decent little spot, the dorms being little two storey units set back from the street amid a garden of palms and ferns. That night, we went out on the town, determined to use the drink coupons that had come with our tour. Morocco's, Mama Africa's, Beaches, Magnums. After the Jagerbombs, the night got a little fuzzy, but I think it involved a foam party. At least my jeans smell clean now. What I know is that at 2am, I participated in a didg-and-trumpet jam, to which the couple upstairs retaliated with a little amorous noise of their own.

The next morning, the 23rd of September, was perfect for hangovers: really hot and sunny. Eric, Kara, Warren and I lazed around the manmade lagoon for a while, but I couldn't be mellow for long, for I had to catch the 1:45 shuttle, bound for Proserpine Airport. It was time to head to Brisbane and hang out with my friend Sab.