“If I only scrape a living, at least its a living worth scraping. If there’s no future in it, at least the present’s worth remembering.”

Darkside Of The Lens from mickey smith on Vimeo.

Found on Gear Patrol.

The “Long Overdue” trip for 2011 was to Europe. It was supposed to be Turkey…then it was Morocco…then it was both…and then I really wanted to go to Nepal…and maybe India too…and I came this close to going. And then it got too expensive by the time I made up my damn mind. So then I hastily tagged along on a trip to Iceland and threw in a week in England for good measure. And in hindsight, that Nepal trip probably would’ve been cheaper if I wasn’t scared off by the cost of the flight.

Here’s how 2011 panned out. I leave out my weekend trips to NYC/Boston and my exploration of New Haven. They still count in my head. Travel isn’t defined by distance, after all. This post would just be too big.

January – Chicago

Okay, I might be cheating a little, since some of this trip is from 2010. But it was to celebrate New Year’s. Stef and I went to Chicago to watch a BU hockey tournament. Apparently, no other BU fan could be bothered. Our cheering section consisted of approximately 12 people. Anywho, we rang in the New Year with hip hop party at our hotel. This is where I learned to Dougie. I learned it from a 10 year old kid. And I’ve been teaching the less fortunate ever since.

Looking at my Flickr set now, I’m surprised how many good pictures I took here.

February - Austin, Portland, Seattle

My one business travel trip of the year. But it was a goody, as I got to see all the great hipster cities in one whirlwind week.

Did a nice daytrip out to the Mt. Hood Conservation Area with some coworkers.

And since I was in the neighborhood, I got in a daytrip to Seattle before flying home.

Watched the Super Bowl at the famous Alamo Drafthouse with a rowdy crowd that would normally be immediately kicked out of the Drafthouse on any other occasion. As for the rest of Austin…

March – Austin

…Well, two weeks later, I was on a flight back to Austin for SXSW. What an incredible week surrounded by cool, smart, hipsters who each did their part to change my perspective on work, travel, technology, and life. Also, I saw Big Boi in concert. And I bought a bike. Living and working in New Haven really hasn’t been the same since.

May – Las Vegas, NV

This trip was totally unexpected in the best possible ways. It was in the right place, at the right time, with the right people. What started as a “Wouldn’t it be cool…”conversation at dinner between friends spiraled into an actual, random long weekend a few weeks later. I saw new sides of friends, and I don’t think I would’ve ended up in Iceland were it not for this trip. Also, I won a rally expensive wallet. This was a weekend that kept on giving.

Can’t forget the annual trip to Block Island. Same itinerary, different’ish people, more seals, and tandem bikes.

There was a long depressing lull as I tried to recover financially from Vegas and preceding trips.

November – The Long Overdue Trip…Back to Europe

This trip felt long overdue after a very rough summer and fall of no trips. Can’t write too much about it yet, that’s for a blog series that will take 2 years to complete. Here’s a VERY VERY NSFW video that properly sums up my trip though. Metaphorically, I’m the rabbit in that video, whereas life is represented by me. There’s some meta symbolism in that, but I’m still working through it.

2012
I can’t really tell if it’s jealousy of others or that I really enjoy it myself, but this desire to travel and see the world is really intensifying. I’m so envious of the friends who get to hop on a plane every week, who are sick of living out of a suitcase, and come back on weekends just begging to not have to do it again. There is a part of me that wants to be that tired of travel. I still like the airport, I like the 4am drive to JFK, I like being horrifically lost in a foreign place and struggling to find my way out. Is that strange?

I honestly have no idea where 2012 will take me. I’m hoping to do the Mongolian line of the Trans-Siberian Railroad. I’d love to attempt Nepal again. Anywhere in Africa would be a dream. And I still haven’t seen the mother country (Vietnam). We’ll see which one pans out or if a new travel opportunity awaits. “Travel more” is no longer a goal or resolution, it’s on my mind 100% of the time, so it’s just something that will happen as frequently as possible.

Happy New Year!

Nothing like the holidays to bring out the materialistic side of me (who am I kidding, people that know me see this side more than they see the sun).   Seeing that I’ll be desperately squirreling away money for the next few months, come check out my Svpply account to see all the things I’m drooling over but can’t afford.

Let me just say, this shit is addicting. If you think you have better hipster style than me, sign up for an account as well and friend me, I’d love to steal some of the things you guys are into.

I made pancakes for the ladies when we got up while Adriane was getting this intel from the Swiss girls. Apparently, the really drunk German girl didn’t stumble back to the bunks but instead to the back of the cabin where Danny was sleeping. The gossipy joys of a tour with all females.

Not a bad view to wake up to.

The girls were not pleased that we would be starting off our morning with a hike. Even less pleased when we found out the place we were going to was called Snake Lagoon.

Bleary eyed, we trudged through a trail that followed a small, rocky, river. The river carved a path through these rolling hills with a mix of boulders and wildflowers.

What stuck out for me were these bare branched bushes and trees all throughout the trail. I believe they were charred monuments of a past fire that swept through much of the island and decimated acres of greenery a few years back. Since then, new flowers and grass and bushes had sprung up among them. It provided a great contrast of fire, water, and earth.

Supposedly, the streams were home to the rare platypus, but we didn’t see any.

The best was saved for the end of the trail however, as we followed the river to its destination. We were met by giant jagged rocks, orange from algae. Waves crashed from the Southern Ocean onto the beach below. We each climbed our favorite peak and just sat and enjoyed our moments of zen. It was beautiful.

There was then a drive through rolling hills that Danny turned into a challenge of how many G's he could get accelerating our van downhill.

Again, clear evidence of the wildfires that spread across the island were seen along the way. After clinging for dear life and our breakfasts, we made it to another seaside cliff.

From a distance, we could see these enormous boulders jutting out of the ground, random and organized like an Australian version of Stonehenge. This was nature-made though. The giant slabs of granite were carved by Mother Nature.

We climbed, crawled, and posed for silly pictures all over the joint.

Not far from Remarkable Rocks was another scenic walk. We passed a seaside lighthouse and descended down the cliff via stairs.

At the bottom was Admiral's Arch, an amphitheater shaped cave looking out to the Southern Ocean. The roof was jagged and pointy, The base was flat, slanted, and filled with New Zealand fur seals lying about.

These seals were all over the rocky cliffs. We were stunned to see these seals jumping and literally climbing up these rocky edges with only their flippers.

Done with that, things kind of went hilariously downhill from there. Danny sped down the roads like a 16 year old kid who just got his license and wanted to show off to his buddies. We were en route to a local honey farm. Honey is a big deal on Kangaroo Island. It is the last remaining place on earth that one can find a pure Ligurian honeybee, a nice consequence of isolation. The wild driving finally kind of bit Danny in the ass though. With music blasting, the van was barreling down the road with me in the passenger seat admiring the scenery. Adriane was in the far back with the Swiss girls. We hit a bump. Some screaming was heard over the speakers.

“The window is cracking!”

“Oh, it’ll be fine. We’re almost there.” Danny and I gave each other the universal look men give each other when we’re thinking “Women…”

Another bump. We fly a bit.

Now the screaming is more frantic. I look back and the rear window had shattered onto Adriane and the girls. Danny finally decided it was time to slow down. The girls were pissed. Women…

We made it to the honey farm, where Danny sent us on our way to the bathrooms to pick the glass shards out of our hairs and gift shop to try some honey ice cream. I learned that pure honey doesn't go bad. The things you learn while traveling.

I remember there was some ghetto duct tape fix going on to “repair” the window. HQ was not going to be pleased with Danny when he arrived back with a tour van missing a back window, I can imagine. Good thing this happened at the last stop in our trip. We just had to drive back to the ferry port where we would transfer vans to one with fully intact windows.

But it turns out the ferry was running late. We had a lot of time to kill. What else is there to do but go to the local watering hole for some drinks. There was still more time to kill. Adriane and I walked the area and took some final photos. There was a fairy penguin center that wasn't open.

Below that was the beach, which we walked along. Danny decided it'd be a good time to go for a swim for no reason. That water looked freezing. The rest of the girls sat on their bags at the docks and kicked rocks. The Swiss girls, Adriane, and I happened upon a Fish and Chips shop close to the pier. Of course we ordered some, it was greasy and delicious. I practiced some French with Adriane and the Swisses.

Finally the boat arrived and we mostly slept our way home. Goodbye Kangaroo Island…

…Hello open seas. The ride was much less choppy this time.

On the drive back to Adelaide, the group decided we would go a the club around the corner from our hostel. It was one of the Swiss girl’s birthday. And it turns out this club, of which I no longer remember the name, is poppin’ for a Sunday night. There was much drinking and dancing with the Swiss girls and a few others from our tour group too. Danny received an invite but did not make it down. Another eventful day came to a close. Soon, Adriane and I were going to left to our own devices.

London Bus Tour from moritz oberholzer on Vimeo.

Discovered on Londonist.

The continuing trend of diminishing tour vehicles were in effect when we were finally picked up in a van with a trailer. Adriane and I were one of the last people to be picked up.

And such was the beginning of a beautiful safari. Here are some of the wildlife we saw:

Tourist girls – As I drowsily got in and looked around at all the half-awake passengers (it was like 4AM or something), something was wrong. I somehow ended up being the only male on the tour group, other than Danny our tour guide.

Unlike the previous tours, I barely remember or interacted with the most of group. There was just a lot of bonding/clinging to do with the friend I flew halfway around the world to see. But being the only guy in the tour group provided plenty of hilariously awkward moments throughout the tour.

Crazy tour guide – I think his name was Danny, but I just realized I didn't write his name down anywhere. Anywho, dude was insane and totally reckless in the best way possible.

Not the model of professionalism, but extremely entertaining when paired with a tour group of fussy European girls. Gravely voiced, tatted up, with the vocabulary of an experienced skater/surfer, Adriane and I had a good time hanging out with him. Energetic was kind of an understatement to describe him. I think he appreciated that we were a little more gung-ho and adventurous. As we talked on the ferry ride over, he told us how he usually guided tours of Kakadu in the wet season and then makes his way down to Adelaide in the off-season to guide tours of Kangaroo Island and generally be a surfer bum. Not a bad life. Being the only guy in the group, I happily volunteered this time to ride shotgun the rest of the tour.

This dog – So there was about a two hour drive down the South Australian coast to Cape Jervis in which Danny drove way too quickly (a sign of things to come), where we would board a ferry to Kangaroo Island. The sun rose over sprawling green hills to our left and a coastline on the right. This was fertile Australia, where amazing wines are grown and produced. This poor dog greeted us at the ferry terminal, waiting obediently for its owner to leave with a ticket in hand for it.

Not that many people go to Kangaroo Island in general, but the majority of the ferry passengers were older empty-nesters and retirees who go to Kangaroo Island as a place to fish, relax, and escape the mainland. An Australian Martha’s Vineyard, of sorts.

The ferry ride was rough. I tried to walk up the stairs to the second level with a few older ladies and the boat rocking so far over, knocking all of us down the stairs. It was kind of fun until the sea sickness set in.

Upon landing, the first stop was obviously to climb an enormous hill. It's not really a tour with some physical exertion to start the day.

Up at the top was a nice panorama of the island. There were some displays along the railing showcasing KI’s unique wildlife. The only one that really stuck out were tiger snakes, one of the deadliest and venomous snakes in the world. Lovely.

Baby Wallaby – This little guy was being raised by the owners of a eucalyptus farm, the first stop on our tour. Inside a small room with a television and antique carriage, we watched a forgettable movie on the benefits of eucalyptus and history of the farm. I don't remember a thing about the movie except Adriane and I sat aboard the vehicle. The rest of the visitor center was just a regular tourist trap store with plenty of eucalyptus related soaps and products. And the adorable baby wallaby that made the trip to this place totally worth it.

Australian Sea Lions – A park ranger ushered our group down the boardwalk onto the sand so we could all get a closer look. The first one spotted wasn't even on the beach, but laying by the bushes a foot away from the wooden path. That large mass of blubber called a sea lion. This was the misnamed Seal Bay, a secluded beach littered with a colony of Australian sea lions. They share Kangaroo Island with a rival gang of sea lions of the New Zealand variety who inhabit the opposite end.

The life of the Australian seal is pretty ideal if you ask me. They go out to sea for three days swimming out far and wide catching and eating some fish. Then, physically exhausted, they go back onto the beach and sleep for three days. Three.full.days of sleep. Who wouldn't be jealous? And when fully rested, they do that same thing until they die of old age or get eaten by a shark, I imagine.

We were told to stay together and not to make too much noise as to interrupt the sea lions' beauty sleep (a sleep-deprived sea lion is one facing certain death out in the waters). We were that tragic distance of "so close, yet so far."

It's embarrassing the amount of times I was tempted to escape the group and cuddle with one of them.

Tiger Snake – “TIGER SNAKE!” Danny yelled excitedly as he slammed on the brakes. What followed was the ear-piercing screams of abject terror by a dozen females…and me. Up until that moment, it was a relaxing drive down a windy, bumpy, hilly road on our way to sand dunes, if relaxing was Danny driving way too fast while we all clutched to our seats and experienced at least 1G in gravitational pull.

It could have been because we were all nearly thrown out the front windshield, but I’m going to guess it was more likely our tour guide just yelled out the name of a Top 10 venomous/deadliest/don’t-fuck-with-me snake without any further clarification. In a blink of an eye, Danny had bolted out the driver’s side, grabbed a poking stick out of the trunk and ran in front of our Groovy Grapes van. Bewildered screaming still continuing. In the middle of the road was a fairly large tiger snake, maybe 3 feet in length, being picked up on a stick by our INSANE tour guide. The screams got louder with each inch the snake lifted. There was a beckoning motion for us to get out of the van and take a closer look. No one left the van. It all happened so quick, I don’t even remember anyone emotionally stable enough to snap a picture. The only thought running through our collective heads when the screaming subsided is, “Does Danny know what he’s doing?” We were all just waiting for that snake to lunge toward his exposed legs. And then what?

Luckily, it didn’t. He placed it off to the side of the road, came back into the car ad was greeted by 13 whitewashed faces, each mouth agape of a “Why the hell did you do that?” look. We drove on.

I don't have a photo of the tiger snake on account of trauma of actually seeing a tiger snake. This photo from flickr user dbeck03 is about what I saw.

Goanna (tracks) – A goanna is an Australian monitor lizard. Boogie boards in hands, our group was making our way to the massive sand dunes of Little Sahara. Close to a natural border of scrubs, curvy line with small dots on either side were imprinted in the sand by our feet. It kind of looked like an aboriginal sand art. Unfortunately, this lizard had eluded our sights.

But who cares, it was time for sand surfing. As we approached, we could see a handful of other families and tourists expertly ripping down these enormous sand hills on surf and boogie boards. We made our way to the top of the first one, panting from the one-step-forward-two-steps-back challenge climbing up sand. A quick lesson by Danny on how to wax our boards and sleds, steering and stopping with our hands, and it was time to have at it.

Two-in-one sled, face first, stand up surfing, we tried and failed it all. The best wipeout was Adriane and I on a tiny sled barreling into a group of people at the base of the hill. It was great feeling 5 years old again.

Koalas – After a few hours playing in the sand, we drove over to a small koala sanctuary. We walked a path lined with eucalyptus trees with our head cocked upwards. Koalas being sound sleepers and nonexistent movers, it was a lot of staring up at the branches and trying to decide if we were looking at a koala or just a furry bush of leaves. After our necks were sufficiently strained, our attention was turned to a ground level disturbance.

Echidna – "ECHIDNA!" Danny yelled excitedly as he slammed on the brakes. We had been through this before and it wasn't great last time. But this time, it wasn't a deadly reptile (which for Australia, is saying a lot) in the middle of the road, but a cute, spiky monotreme. We got out of the van this time. Danny scooped up the echidna with the bottom of his shirt as the poor creature curled up into a spiky ball.

We walked into the bushes where Danny plopped the echidna down. Its four webbed feet kicked sideways, clearing dirt away as it began to burrow, almost like a reverse snow angel. Slowly but surely, it was digging itself deeper into the dirt while flat on his stomach trying to escape the paparazzi gawking and clicking their cameras.

Kangaroo – The first one was spotted in the koala sanctuary a mere feet away from us, eating the grass and minding its own business. We did the Bugs Bunny game of Freeze where you tiptoe silently closer and closer until the kangaroo looked up at you and wondered if he was imagining something. Kind of an exhilarating moment, seeing my first kangaroo in the wild, but it was only a precursor what was to come.

Lots More Kangaroos – Our overnight cabin was tucked away in this sprawling green prairie littered with yellow poppies. When we returned from the sand dunes, the sun was starting to set. As our van cut a path through the fields, one was spotted grazing…

then another…then a group of 3…and soon we realized this prairie was littered with kangaroos picnicking on the grass.

I stood on the porch and took in the vista of the fields change colors as the sun slowly dropped. The herd of kangaroos didn't move too much given the plenty of things to eat around them, just enough to tell you they weren't a rock in the distance. Breathtaking.

Fairy penguins! – After dinner at the cottage and some beers, the moon was firmly in place in the night sky. Danny offered to drive us all to a small harbor to witness the fairy penguins returning to their nests after a long day at sea. I mean, how could we say no…well, some of the tourist girls actually were reluctant…and also really drunk, the kind of drunk that makes you wonder if this was their first time drinking…and that’s about the moment they were officially dead to me. Everyone eventually agreed and we piled in the van again. At the harbor, only one or two streetlamps kept the area somewhat lit, enough to see a late night dock worker packing up for the night. Otherwise, we were standing by the water in pitch black waiting for who-knows-what. Finally, a splash, and a small blue’ish blob emerges from the water and waddles into a burrow. I might’ve coo’ed over the cuteness of it all. I think we saw two of them. No one could really take a good photograph because we were told not to use flash as it would disorient the penguins. But then Danny went ahead and picked one of them up, so I’m not sure I followed the logic. That memory is forever ingrained in my head of these blue penguins, a few inches tall, waddling on shore and putting on a show for a group of drunk college girls, and me.

A re-enactment of spotting my first fairy penguin in the wild from Flickr user Kratzy.

So the cottage was really a dormitory full of bunk beds with a wood-burning stove to keep everyone warm. It definitely looked cozy but the idea of trying to sleep in the loft overlooking a dozen drunk, chatty tourist girls was not my idea of a good night’s sleep. Adriane and I were having a good conversation in front of the fire outside with the Swiss girls (the only pair of mature, down-to-earth girls worth getting to know) and had the bright idea to just sleep in front of the fire under the stars. Danny was all for it and lent us some swags. Then the really drunk German girls wanted to join us…but I think they lasted about an hour before they went back inside. I think one of them hooked up with Danny…

Possum – Anywho, I slept like a baby, but Adriane apparently got attacked by a hungry possum in the middle of the night. This is a Kangaroo Island possum picture from Flickr user tschlagi

I guess they’re inspirational, really creative, and well-produced as well, if you’re the typical mindless viewer. But for a day dreamer like me with severe bouts of wanderlust, each one of those smug smiles by actor Andrew Lees is like a punch to the face. Enjoy getting beat up for three minutes.

In an effort to calm me down, I took the three words in the video series and wrote a small stream of consciousness from my travels.

MOVE from Rick Mereki on Vimeo.

MOVE – Down Chapel Street…past Fuel coffee shop, I walk and poke my cell phone, trying to to Foursquare check-in to Wooster Square Park while avoiding cracks in the sidewalks, dogs, and neighbors. All are heading to the Saturday’s farmer’s market every Saturday…a few feet away from where Sally’s and Pepe’s have lines of eager pizza enthusiasts. Keep walking, past the church with the Sunday jazz service and the line out the door of hipsters and/or homeless. I still haven’t figured out what they’re waiting for. Past the 9th Square and the English Market where I pop in to say hi to Carol and Robert, sometimes working from The Bourse. Further down, through the New Haven Green, past more homeless sitting on the benches. Another block and through Yale’s quad, with the young and collegiate sitting on the benches. Onto Broadway, to pick up a shirt at Urban Outfitters or a tea at Blue State. It’s not a faraway land, but it counts as travel to me.

LEARN from Rick Mereki on Vimeo.

LEARN – One of the farmers led me up to a hill to a clearing exposed directly to the midday sunlight. In the clearing was stacks and stacks of rice stalks. In the middle a basic hut of sorts, square in shape with a small roof. Along the perimeter was a railing of wood with a metal net over the center of the hut. A tarp lay across the group underneath the net. He proceeded to throw down stacks of rice by me. Then he hurled a bunch of rice stalks over his shoulder and slammed them into the railing. Upon impact, rice separated from the stalk and rained down onto the tarp. I was going to harvest rice for the next few hours. I got bit by a fire ant about an hour in.

EAT from Rick Mereki on Vimeo.

EAT – The best meal I ever ate was in Paris in a very small, low-key restaurant called Lui L’Insolent a few blocks from the apartment we were staying in by Montmartre. The chef was a jovial pudgy man who insisted we struggle through ordering in French. The duck was incredibly cooked. And that souffle sampler for dessert. Far too often there are times sitting when I’m eating back at home that my mind wanders back to that meal, and then I wonder how much longer do I have to wait to go back.

This was a travel day though. I barely have that many notes on it, but there are some memorable highlights.

I was really hungover the next morning waiting for the shuttle to get me to the airport. Dehydration from too much alcohol, desert sun, and too little water kind of does that to you.

An uneventful two hour flight gets you into sunny Adelaide and I had successfully flown the length of Australia from the northernmost city to the southernmost. It was kind of a culture shock after having been in Darwin and Alice Springs, two cities that barely pass as frontier towns. Adelaide was a city, with high rises and busy streets and shopping malls. I realized traveler khakis and dust covered shirts were not going to cut it here. The weather was significantly more pleasant and cooler that 110% humidity Darwin and desert-and-rocks Alice Springs.

Oh, the YHA hostel in Adelaide was incredible. It was big and felt like a big dormitory complex that was clean, bug free, and spacious. I remember feeling horribly grateful for just a boring multi-story building with no outdoor courtyard of any sort. I think this is when I realized I’m more of an indoor person.

Today was the day that Adriane was finally joining me. It marked the personal halfway point of my trip and the end of my solo travels, which was an incredible milestone for me personally. Adriane and I being ourselves, the plan on how we would meet up was a little half-baked. I mean, the odds of me making it through the first week alive was low at best, so there wasn’t much effort put into it. “Just check into the hostel when you get here.” I think I attempted to call her from a payphone to limited success. She was probably en route already. All I knew was I still had a few hours. Might as well acclimate myself.

I remember there was a lot of wandering around downtown with not much to do or in the way of things to see. After checking in, it was pretty much early evening. I walked through an outdoor mall area which had some life to it. Some random buskers in between the shops, flashy lights and display screens for the local movie theater, and decent shops. I ended up eating chinese food at their food court and watching some boxing on the tvs. You know, exotic activities you don’t normally get to experience in day-to-day life.

Sufficiently bored and not really finding anything else to do, I went back to the hostel, grabbed a book, and waited for Adriane in the lounge. An hour or so later, there was a tap on my shoulder and excited squeals and hugs. She arrived! Not without some drama at the front desk. I guess there was some miscommunication and the staff thought she was a visitor and not a paying guest. There was a lot of catching up, but I vividly remember that we proceeded to spend the night throwing all sorts of ideas and recommendations we had heard and ended up totally re-arranging the itinerary we had planned for the rest of the trip. We were now going to go up the east side of Tasmania instead of the west, which meant getting brand new reservations for accommodations and such.

That pretty much took up the night and I think we only managed to got accommodations for our first night there. We hit the sack for an extremely early wakeup the next day. It was time for one final organized tour to Kangaroo Island. Lots of good surprises there. Can’t wait until you get to hear about that.

Andrew told us about these trees that take hundreds of years to grow. Here is one of the older ones.

Priscilla Queen of the Desert was filmed here. There was an iconic scene in the cult movie with the drag queens in front of a V-shaped opening in the canyon walls. Yeah, so…I never saw that movie, but that's what I'm told. We took our turns posing against that gap.

At one point, we walked along the canyon's rim. Across from us was another sheer cliff dropoff. Where one would expect lines of different rock sediment from the various stages of Earth or some geological explanation like that, instead was a giant unexplained oval. Work of aliens? Aborigines? Mother nature? One may never know…

A detour from the Rim Walk took us down the canyon to the Garden of Eden, a watering hole surrounded by lush plant life. Normally, we could cool off with a nice swim, but there hadn't been any rain for days to refresh the stale and dirty lagoon. As we sat and ate our orange slices, jumping into that water was still incredibly tempting.

No safety railings.

My first koala sighting! Not really, this was just a small stuffed koala toy that someone hung onto a tree. Cool shot nonetheless.

Better than climbing Uluru.

Exploring the surroundings

Tabletop formation

Mind the gap, guys…

Another view

After a long morning and afternoon hiking around the rim, we were on our way back to sort-of civilization of Alice Springs. There was one more stop to a roadhouse that employed local aboriginals to weave and paint various artwork, carpets, and other touristy collectibles. These desert roadhouses always seemed to remind me of a different, older era.

Teehee…

Halfway on our long car ride back home, our tank pulled over into a deserted dirt road. It was a drop-off point. Half the group was going to continue on, seeing more beautiful ranges and gorges, sleeping under the stars, and not showering. A tiny army jeep pulled up alongside, the ones where the seats are more like benches along the side of the vehicle in the back. Ryan, Emma, Neil, and Jan said their goodbyes to us. Andrew did as well, we all thanked him profusely. And off my new friends packed into their new rides, looking like lost refugees in that jeep. The older Swiss-German couple were supposed to be part of that caravan, but elected to cut their trip early. “We got room now if any of you want to continue on with us.” I was almost envious enough to take him up on the offer. But I had to move on, Adriane and Southern Australia awaited the next day.

Our new driver was a genial old man, I no longer remember his name. There was plenty of room now to sprawl out and sleep, which is what everyone pretty much did.

Before we bid goodbye to Andrew, the returning folks had asked where one goes out for a drink around Alice Springs. He recommended a place called Bojangles and told us to order the tourist platter (not the actual name of the platter, but who else would order it?). We all decided we would go back, wash up, and meet at Bojangles for a celebratory night. This was exciting to me, because my 3 day Kakadu trip ended with me eating alone at a fish and chips stall and then eventually talking to a racist local.

Bojangles was a fun, rowdy saloon a few blocks from the hostel. I remember having trouble finding it at first, even with clear and simple directions from the hostel manager. The ambiance and crowd sort of reminded me of Cadillac Ranch in Bristol. Everyone came, even Kurt and Simone, the Swiss-German couple. A local radio station broadcasted out of the bar, and there was a DJ that night for a dance party full of backpackers and locals alike (but mostly young backpackers). The “tourist platter” that Andrew recommended consisted of four local grilled meats: emu, camel, croc, and kangaroo. I mean, there wasn’t an easier way to check off all the things I wanted to try while in Australia. The only note I took about Bojangles pretty much sums it up: “Got wasted last night!”
There was a lot of great discussion with Adam, Axel, and Frank, I remember. And then it got late in the night, and everyone left the table to hit on girls, and I wasn’t really seeing straight anymore. And somehow, I made it back to the hostel and went to bed. Tomorrow, another flight and a new region of Australia to explore.

I had one of those perfect wakeups where your vision slowly comes to focus and you realize you just had an incredible night’s sleep. “Oh…I’m still out in the Outback. Good to know…” as I oriented myself to the sight of Andrew poking at smoldering embers. Time to roll up the swags. We were off to a viewpoint to see the sunrise. It was 4AM.

The sunrise viewpoint put us directly in between Uluru and Kata-Tjuta. When we arrived, it was as sparse with bodies as the sunset viewpoint. By the time the sun started peaking out its head, that quiet and reflective mood was totally ruined by a giant tour bus full of the worst kind of tourists. Half-awake adolescents, dads rushing to set up their expensive SLR rigs, and the tour guide cooking breakfast right in the viewing stands. Our tiny group was a little bemused by it all, but chuckled with the satisfaction at having gotten our photo shots early and watching these unfortunates scramble against the barrier position for a photo op or rushing the line for the next bowl of cereal.

Taken from a Kodak Zi6 Flip Camcorder

There were outlets in the bathrooms at the campsite (the one that caused me much panic trying to find in the dead of night). I managed to eek out some battery life out of my camera. But it didn’t take long before the red battery started flashing halfway through sunrise. I had to settle for taking photos on the flip camcorder I brought along and it acquitted itself quite well. Nonetheless, a devastating result considering the day was just beginning.

So with sunrise out of the way, it was barely 9 in the morning, but we were starting our Valley of the Winds walk. This was a 4.5 mile trek through the random but impressive collection of giant domes protruding from the earth. It took the entire day, with the hundred degree sun beating down on us. This would normally be categorized as a death march, but there was quite a spirit to the place.

Falling behind…

We climbed to the top of a particular cluster of domes that had this valley view across the flat desert terrain. You looked down and you could see other marchers huffing their way up the dome. The silence was plentiful, and the view across the desert expanse was breathtaking. Here, there were no stories to be told, too sacred to tell to a passing interloper. But you could tell the domes had plenty of them stored inside.

The wind tunnels the domes created reminded me of the BU Law tunnel on a particularly breezy day. You hesitate about even taking one step because you couldn’t afford to lose the support that two legs planted firmly on the ground provided.

It’s also funny what details you remember two years out. The Frenchies were still in jeans in sweltering heat…Our group photo at the top of an overlook…eating oranges in the shade after marching for hours…I remember lagging behind with Axel and Frank The Tank early in the hike. Axel worked in IT and we bonded over SAP. I remember a trio of overweight teenagers refusing to climb any further up The Olgas, overwrought with angst and bitchiness that only teenage girls are capable of. If only they realized what was at the top.

Group photo at the top of the Olgas

After the hike, Andrew decided he needed a new shotgun partner. Being the only other solo traveler in the group, I was now designated co-pilot, which was a terrible decision. After a full day of hiking, it is usually a co-pilot’s job to help keep the driver awake. Andrew came prepared with gummy worms and a lot of soda.

To be fair, I tried. We talked about how he got into guiding. How much weight he loses after each one of these trips, how he gains them back. His life before guiding. He told me how he set out in the middle of the Kimberly with some aboriginal guides for a survival class, of how the entire Kimberly just had immense amount of unexplained magic to it. This was a deeply spiritual guy who truly respected and admired the aborigines. There was such deep quiet conviction to his anecdotes, however unbelievable, I wish I knew how to dig deeper, to share more with him in hopes of getting him to open more. Alas, I was tired, and terribly uninteresting.

Two hours later, I awoke from the passenger side to see Andrew slumped over behind the wheel and an endless stretch of straight road ahead. Do I even bother waking him? Everyone else is asleep, he somehow is driving in a straight line. There’s no tanker trucks in sight. Common sense would’ve told me to give him a nudge or something, but I just fell back into slumber like the sloth that I am.

We reached a roadhouse in the middle of nowhere. All the roadhouses we stopped in reminded me of a 50′s truckstop. Most of the Outback reminded of how the 50′s would look like for that matter, before pesky things like internet, telephones, or anything electronic took over. Just lots of dirt, camels, and sun. This roadhouse also owned some private land “out back” where we would be spending the night. So after some bathroom breaks and Andrew checking in, it was down a small dirt path for a few miles until we hit a long metal No-trespassing gate. Per shotgun role and responsbility, Andrew asked me to go out and open the gate. Out I tumbled out of the side of the van-tank and made my way to the lock. After about a minute of blank staring and head scratching, Andrew honked and made the “lift the lever and push” motion. Ah, right…I pushed the heavy gate door over the road to the other side and Andrew drove off in jest as the group laughed heartily. I had a quick 4th-grade-loser moment, shook it off, and chased down the van. The joy of traveling with strangers, they don’t need to see or know about your crushingly low self-esteem.

Past an airstrip for the Royal Flying Doctors, our campsite was totally indiscernible from the rest of its surrounding other than there was a fire pit in a clearing of bush.

Andrew led us to an outdoor shower and toilet. We circled, we stared, we knocked on the sheet metal for a few minutes at these three-sided stalls in the middle of nowhere, so out of place in its desert surroundings that it took a few minutes for our brains to accept what our eyes were seeing. They were fascinatingly clean and hey, better one in the middle of nowhere than none at all.

Seriously?…

The campsite was at the base of a rocky hill, probably hiding packs of poisonous snakes (Andrew had trouble convincing us otherwise). A few of the guys and I climbed it for the view of the sunset and to take in the silence and expanse of the location.

As darkness settled in, we gathered for dinner, taking turns with our headlights to find the random shower and toilet stalls. Can a shower be a highlight of a trip? Because it was one of the best shower experiences of my life. The cool desert night, a burning wood stove to keep the water temperature perfect, shockingly incredible water pressure, and total darkness except for a hanging headlight and said burning wood stove made for an interesting series of thoughts as I showered…

“Where’s the soap…”
“What if a passing camel comes to watch me shower?…”
“Why does it bother me if a camel comes to watch me shower?”
“Wait, what was that…is someone there?”
“Relax…camels don’t care about you…”
“I probably shouldn’t use up all this water…”
“When was the last time I showered? I can’t remember…”
“Are camels dangerous? Or just creepers?”

View from shower stall…

Luckily(?), I never ran into a camel or snake while I showered, so all was good. Refreshed and safely back and camp, I nestled into my swag for another peaceful night of sleep.

You have no idea how great it feels to finally finish this blog post.