Creature Comforts

As Bear Grylls knows only too well, survival in the bush is pinned upon perfecting the art of improvisation.  I think we're doing quite well.

We have an alarm clock to wake us up:

This crow wakes us up at 6am sharp, whether we like it or not

We start the day with a cup of coffee, using milk that comes in a tube and sugar sachets 'acquired' from cafes frequented during the previous day:

Then we shower and get dressed, picking clothes from our capsule wardrobe:

Finally, I take a seat at my dressing table, and apply much needed makeup to hide the dark circles from yet another sleepless night:

However, if I haven't made it abundantly clear already, i'm not the world's biggest fan of camping (sorry Bear).  My attempt to pluck my eyebrows the other night (by wearing a head torch and using a tiny hand held mirror), failed.  Miserably.

Needless to say, I am THRILLED that we will be sleeping in a bed, in a warm, dry, wind proof motel for the next two nights, complete with shower, fridge and TV!

And yes, I am the first to admit that despite my best intentions when I set out writing this blog, I am sounding more and more like Carrie Bradshaw everyday.

The only gay in the prison

While camping in Fremantle, we decided to pay a visit to Fremantle prison, which housed some of Australia's most notorious criminals for over 100 years until it closed in '91.

First point to note - it's amazing how spacious and appealing even the most primitive of living conditions can seem (i.e. a cell with a bed, a bedside table, a desk and a sink) when you are camping in a 6ft x 4ft tent!

                                                                                              vs.

Secondly, I would never have imagined that a tour around the prison would end up being so amusing and embarrassing....

Meet Andrew...our prison tour guide:

Andrew not only looked just like Daffyd in Little Britain, he also possessed all the same mannerisms and even spoke like him too.  My favourite quote was when he was describing the media's response to a prison riot in the 1980s... "Oooh, they couldn't keep away... they were like seagulls eating chips.  They just couldn't get enough!"



Then, just our luck, Martin and I got selected for audience participation (in other words Daffyd didn't like the look of us).  My stomach sank.

Daffyd thought a little role play was needed and handed me a whip, with a big smile on his face.  I then had to give Martin 5 lashings, much to the amusement of Daffyd and the other 18 people on our tour.

Awkward?  Yes.  Was this made worse by Daffyd giving inappropriate sexual-inuendo related winks and nudges?  Yes.

Little Britain tour guide and lashings aside, it was actually a very fascinating trip.

One more step along the road I go....

With a lump in my throat, it was time to say goodbye to my Sydney life of flat whites, yoga, lazy days on Bronte beach and my new-found friends.  After packing and re-packing my tiny backpack numerous times to reduce my extensive wardrobe down to the bare essentials, we boarded a plane, bound for WA.  First stop: Perth.

Ariel view of Rottnest island... AKA Paradise

One of the top things to do from Perth is take a ferry to Rottnest Island.  However, it was only on the crossing that Martin decided to inform me that 'Rottnest' translates to 'Rat Nest' island...and that the place is crawling with large rodents.


Spending the day cycling up and down hills in 35 degree heat, dodging giant rats didn't exactly fill me with joy!

However, as soon as I laid eyes on the picture -perfect coastline, with miles of dazzling white sand and turquoise water, my fears were soon forgotten!

The cycling was 'OK' i.e. there were hills but no mountains, I didn't fall off the bike or vomit...so it was a marked improvement on my Mexican cycling disaster a few years ago!





As for the giant rats (Quokkas), they weren't half as scary as I was expecting... they had horrible fat, rat-like tails granted, but they turned out to be chilled out little fellas, that ambled along minding their own business.

Rottnest island = a must-visit destination, even for rodent haters like myself.

Singing in the rain...

We booked to go to the Good Vibrations festival back in September.  The thought of drinking beer in the sun, listening to Faithless, Erykah Badu and the Tings Tings while we lay sprawled out on the grass, was very appealing and something I looked forward to for months!

When the day I’d been waiting for finally arrived, the sky was a disappointing shade of grey, with thunderstorms due late afternoon. 

So, off we trundled, armed with our ponchos…and boy did we need them!

Check out the couple in the background...hilarious!

But we didn’t let the rain bring us down…in fact, jumping up and down to Faithless as we got continually drenched helped to keep us….refreshed!

Similarities between English & Australian music festivals:

• Rain. Rain. And more bloody rain.
• Lots of people walking around in plastic bags (ponchos)
• A strong smell of ganja in the air
• Very expensive Chinese food
• Men pissing anywhere and everywhere

Differences:

• Muscles and baseball caps worn backwards!  Australian men clearly spend as much time in the gym / taking steroids as Brits spend in the pub
• Tiger beer instead of Heineken…not quite right somehow
• Amazingly clean portaloos
• No crowd surfing
• Women don’t just strip down to their bras…they go topless

Singlet, muscles and baseball cap...meet the Aussie male festival goer

Adventures in the Outback

Having spent 5 months in Oz without bumping into Skippy or his pals and never being more than a stone-throw from the sea, we felt the need to venture into the bush…

So we planned an epic road trip, from Sydney to Adelaide, via Broken Hill - apparently a ‘must- visit’ destination... in the middle of nowhere.

While part of me looked forward to experiencing the ‘real Australia’, I also questioned whether miles upon miles of straight road and red soil would make for a damn boring trip!

It has to be said that it was a rollercoaster of highs and lows…

The highs

·     Being given a crate of beer AND an esky (cool box) by our friendly campsite neighbour in Nyngan

·     Going to Nyngan RSL for dinner – a cross between a school canteen and bingo hall

·     Beans on toast with garnish for breakfast

·     Strawberry picking with the hill billies in Huntley!

·     Drinking ice cream sodas in an original 50s diner in Broken Hill 

·     Driving at 150kms per hour on the open road in Bruce, our Mitsubishi Outlander

·     Spotting some amazing monster ‘road train’ trucks

·     Camping next to a crazy / scary Australian who had a trailer full of beautiful little puppies!

·     Visiting the pub used in the Castlemaine XXXX adverts

·     Hungry Jack’s pancakes – surprisingly good!

·     Martin having an argument with a motel manager who told me off for not filling out the Check-In form correctly, then storming out of his office!

 The lows…

·     Getting to Cobar and then having to take a 600KM detour because the main road to Broken Hill was closed ‘until further notice’ due to a burst dam! NOOOOOOOOOO.

·     Driving for 3 hours, feeling famished and walking into a pub that looked like it hadn’t had a customer for the last 2 years only to be told by the butch woman behind the bar that they’d stopped serving food 10 minutes ago

·     Showering with frogs and spiders in what you or me would call a shed, not a bathroom

Overall, it was a great trip… despite the detour and yes, we found Skippy and his not so fortunate friends...

The kangaroo count was as follows:

7 dead (full body)

1 dead (head only)

1 live and jumping!