From paradise to Blackpool (An East coast journey) - Daintree, Australia
Daintree, Australia
Greetings comrades once again I come to you with news from the fair lands of Australia although I must confess that not all my tidings are good. I have entered into the very heart of the backpacking camps and therefore I must write in haste lest I become captured and forced into a life of vest wearing.
After returning from the exotic islands of Sri Lanka to the gray and rainy climes of Victoria and NSW, I found it difficult to find excitement at the thought of a monumental journey over the far reaches of the East coast to the north of Queensland. The rumours from the east coast had filled me with a sense of foreboding and anxiety for I knew I was about to enter the realms of Social deviance. A lair for the vest wears, and collectors of trilby hats, a lair of pink shorts, strange Germanic side partons and those horrendous wicked camper vans. Yes my friends I was about to come face to face with the legions of backpackers who flock to the east coast in order live exactly the same life they would lead in England without any desire to venture out into the stunning wilderness of this mystical realm.
The actions of these backpackers were legend in every hostel or campsite and it was with a touch of amusement but also understanding when I looked upon a sign in campsite bathroom which requested that backpackers refrain from stealing a sponge. I could not believe that the level of stealing from these tribes had reached such a low point that the campsite lords would have to put up a threatening sign to stop them running off with their sponges.
The Journey began with the long trek up to Sydney from Melbourne. In the interest of haste we decided against the coastal route and headed along the highway stopping at small towns along the way and sleeping mostly in the van. Until now we had not had the opportunity to set up the van as our new abode and it was an exciting feeling having the opportunity to pull over where ever we wanted and spend the night in peace and comfort. The excitement was short lived however, as during the first night I realised comfort was a thing of the past. Unfortunately although our bed looked cosey from the outside there was a number of bumps from where we had laid back the seats and no matter where we tried to pad it out it never seemed to be even. Furthermore despite the gray and miserable weather we had encountered since we returned to Australia the inside of the van became incredibly hot and muggy, I opened the windows to allow in some air but in doing so I also invited swarms of mosquitoes and cockroaches the size of dragons. In the interest of chivalry I felt it was only fair to allow Anna to remove the cockroaches. This became a theme of our journey up the east coast and sleep was hard to come by.
After three days driving we finally arrived into Sydney, a citadel famous throughout the world of men. I must confess that despite my hatred of cities and for those who dwell in such places I was actually quite enthusiastic about the prospect of seeing the harbour. Whence I was but a youngster I often looked upon places like this on television never believing that one day I would visit it for myself. Such landmarks appeared fictional to my eyes, places where men from the lands of Sunderland could not venture, but here I was, about to look upon it with mine own eyes.
After parking the van illegally Anna and I followed signs for the harbour. We walked down the narrow streets and I could smell the distant aromas of the sea. The anticipation was like a drug, I could wait no longer. I came out into an opening, the harbour was in sight and then I fell into despair. Surely what lay before me must be an illusion, an evil trick played by my traitorous mind. I rubbed my eyes hoping the vision would change into something glamorous, but neigh, I still looked upon an exact replica of the Tyne bridge. Many leagues I had travelled to view Sydney harbour but I felt as though I had being transported to the lands of my most hated enemy. I had expected a sight to behold but instead I was given Newcastle on a sunny day. I must confess that although the opera house was impressive I could not look upon without thinking that it was a more artistic version of the metro arena. Despite the fact that they look nothing alike my mind was too far gone lost in hateful memories of Geordie shore and Alan Padrew. I turned and fled, hoping that beer and a visit to the theatre would restore my faith in this famous citadel.
Three days were spent in Sydney and I must confess that despite my disappointment with harbour bridge I did actually quite enjoy my time there. The city seemed to have a much more relaxed and suit free environment, which unfortunately cannot be said about Melbourne. To me Melbourne felt like a set out of the Truman show, where everything was too clean and perfect and the people were typical, pretentious, suit wearing city dwellers who would constantly speak about the greatness of Melbourne as if they had being programmed to do so. Sydney on the other hand had dirty, grimy back alley pubs like you would find in London. There seemed to be more character and history, and tramps roamed the streets freely. All manner of unruly characters could be found speaking to themselves in strange tongues and not wearing shoes. In Melbourne on the other hand this type of character was a myth and I worried anxiously that they were forcibly removed by undercover police agents like in North Korea.
After our time in Sydney had elapsed once again we took to the van and began the journey up the east coast. The first few days were uneventful, we stopped briefly in Newcastle, a place I already disdained for its unruly name. I doubted that anywhere could be as a bad as it's namesake but this place came very close. An industrial town full of bogans with very little to do. We left hastily and as I consulted the map I noticed towns called Seaham, Hexham and Morpeth, which seemed very ironic as all these towns where close to Newcastle in England as well. Furthermore my hometown is Seaham and therefore I felt an obligation to visit the Australian version of this town in order to get a photo and compare it to the paradise that I had grown up in. To Anna's despair this meant a detour inland which wasn't entirely straightforward.
We entered a rural countryside very reminiscent of England but unfortunately a combination of poor sign posts and Anna's habit of speeding passed places we were supposed to turn off caused us to become lost. After an hour of driving around small towns and getting stared at from the curious folk as we drove through I almost gave up on the idea, but then fortune favoured the brave and we came to a huge white sign that bade us welcome to Seaham. The town itself had only one street and was surrounded by farms and countryside, it was picturesque but our tour of this tiny town lasted about 5 minutes. I got out of the car and got my customary picture by the sign and then wished my Australian twins farewell feeling that I had achieved something on this particular day.
The days that followed are a haze of hypnotic despair. The weather had taken a turn for the worse and we were constantly on the road searching for a nice place to visit. Unfortunately these places seemed few and far between. We passed through numerous small towns such as Port Macquarie and Coffs Harbour but each one reminded me of somewhere like Blackpool. Tacky tourist establishments, awful housing, gray weather and packed beaches were a world a way from the wilderness and beauty of the West Coast, Kangaroo Island and Tasmania. Thus far my perception of the East coast was exactly what I had expected, particularly of New South Wales and we decided our best option was to make for Queensland before our world succumbed to the impending darkness of despair.
More days of driving followed until eventually we made it to Byron Bay, a place oft spoken of by the travelling scribes and a place we had dreamed of throughout the last few days. Not far from the border of Queensland, Byron Bay was a place of turquoise beaches and white sands, but unfortunately for us it was a place that remained unhidden from the backpacking tribes who had flocked to this location in order to pretend to be a hippie and take drugs.
As we drove into the small town the place was crowded beyond belief, unfortunately we had timed our visit with the blues and roots festival and therefore the wannabe hippies were joined by geriatric old folk who still felt they were in their 20s. I watched in despair as tribes of young, British, macho, vest wearing youths littered the town in a show of bravado, whilst the rich orange ladies from the southern lands of the UK paraded around in those awful Indian style trousers which I believed to have banished from my memories until this day. Their fake blonde locks struck fear into my heart for I felt trapped and surrounded. We tried to escape the crowds in search of peace and relaxation as well as somewhere to sleep but these fiends hid in every corner of the town and covered the beaches in a sea of fake tan. Unfortunately there was also nowhere for Anna and I to park our van and the campsites were charging triple of what they normally did due to the festival. We had no choice but to leave this dream behind us in a haze of nightmares and make for the city of Brisbane where we would stay for a couple of days to get some much needed rest.
The journey and the lack of excitement was beginning to take its toll, plus the weather remained gray and miserable. As our van rolled into Brisbane I felt like I could be in any other city in the UK for it was just like anywhere else. The only excitement that had come from the last week including our time in Brisbane was meeting a Swindon fan on the day that Paolo Di Canio had being announced as Sunderland manager. This seemed Ironic as I was under the impression Swindon fans did not exist.
For the first time since my journey of South Korea I really was not enjoying travelling. The east coast just did not have the magic and mystery of the rest of Australia and our journey had really become monotonous and boring. We longed for the day where we could relax on an nice sandy beach without being surrounded by vest wearers and wannabe hippies. The east coast tribes proved to be exactly what we expected and therefore whilst in Brisbane we avoided hostels and paid more money to stay in a place free of macho posh folk whose idea of travel was to move from city to city oblivious of what the Australian wilderness had to offer.
Despite our disliking for Brisbane our stay there had helped us to recharge our fading batteries. The time had come to move on and with the shining of the sun our hopes had risen. Before us lay the famous Fraser Island, and of course The Great Barrier Reef. I longed to visit these places for the rumours from other travelling folk often spoke of beauty and paradise. I hoped that we had passed through the worst parts of the east coast and that what lay ahead was a return to the Australia I had grown to love.
Obviously we had no intention of visiting the Gold Coast before hand. Whilst surfers paradise was a place of splendour to some, to me it was a place of undesirables and high rise buildings. From what I had seen the beaches looked awful, busy and very much like Blackpool or Wigan peer. They say not to judge a book from its cover, but this was one book I dared not read.
The journey continued and in haste we headed for a place called Hervey Bay which was the gateway to Fraser island. Along the way we stopped at what proved to be another awful seaside town called Tin Can Bay the reason being that we heard it was a haven for dolphins. Unfortunately once we had located the beach where this viewing supposedly took place we were dismayed to see that the dolphin viewing was turned into some form of spectacle like at sea world. We left after five minutes and battled through disappointment.
The ritual of getting back into the van was beginning to seem more like work, especially for Anna as she was the one who had to do all the driving now that Duchess Laura had departed and gone her separate ways. Sleeping had become difficult as despite the grey weather the nights proved to very warm especially within the van. I knew that one day I would look upon this as a fantastic experience but at this moment in time both Anna and I felt only despair. Not only had the journey drained our enthusiasm but it also began to drain our funds and it was at this point that we began to feel the need to search for another job.
We arrived into Hervey Bay with the news that we may have two potential job offers. One in South Queensland, and one in Northern Queensland. Our current location was perfect as it was central and also despite the weather it was a little more promising than many other places we had visited. From here we were also able to do a tour of Fraser island so we decided to set up camp here for a few days whilst waiting to learn our fate.
The only way to get over to Fraser Island was to join a tour group and get driven around by a guide. The group we had chose was smaller and more exclusive but despite this and his obvious knowledge our guide was a serial pervert, who constantly made awful comments towards all the women and then believed himself to be funny, but unfortunately he was old and his jokes only made everyone cringe. The tour however was impressive and did manage to lift our spirits.
The island was surrounded by rain forest and rough seas. It was a relief to finally see something of beauty and my love of travelling was reborn. Our tour included a visit to natural warm pools which were protected from the rough seas by natural rock formations from forgotten ages. Due to the weather not many people braved the water but Anna and I could not refuse and got into the pools overlooking the vast oceans surrounding the island. Other than that we trekked up to spectacular lookouts and even got a sight of two Dingoes who watched us cautiously. When the time had come to leave the island our spirits had lifted dramatically, even more so when I got a call to say we had gotten a job at Daintree Eco Lodge in Northern Queensland. Our destination was set.
The journey North not only renewed my spirits but also Anna's. We suddenly entered a land with a spectacular backdrop of rain forest and mountains. The weather had also turned and we understood immediately why it was called tropical Queensland. The very air seemed fresh with optimism and when we arrived to look upon our place of work we believed we had struck gold. The lodge was located in the heart of the rain forest, a stones throw from cape tribulation and The Great Barrier Reef. I was to be the new breakfast chef which filled me with a sense of foreboding as the place seemed very up market and beyond my skills of beans on toast.
The first few days were OK but I began to feel wary, for my duties as breakfast chef seemed to be expanding to that of lunchtime chef and evening chef, which I was pretty certain was beyond my skills. Furthermore our boss seemed unpredictable in her wrath and she looked like a cross between some outlandish serpent and Noel Fielding.
The house in which we stayed seemed to be crawling with huge spiders one of which lived on our light switch. We were truly living in the wild at this point but the spiders were the least of our problems. I ask you not to lose faith I my tale for I do not exaggerate when I speak of the sheer volume of mosquitoes that inhabited this area. The moment I stepped outside I could barely see in front of me due to the swarms and I was attacked by every angle, I would look upon my ankles and see at least 50 mosquitoes feasting on my blood. No amount of spray or potions would keep them at bay and perhaps the worst moment was when we ventured back from a journey to a hidden, yet spectacular waterfall.
The place in itself was magical, hidden amongst rolling green fields and ancient forest. I felt as though I had entered middle earth and although there were no orcs at bay the dangers were somewhat worse.
Dusk began to settle when we decided we should leave the crystal clear waters of this natural waterfall behind and return home. We had become lost in a world where time was forgotten and this was to our peril, for the moment I left the pool I heard the unmistakable war horns of legion upon legion of mosquitoes. The sounds of war chilled my bones and as I looked upon Anna I could see only defeat in her eyes. Shadow was upon us.
"Master, how many?" Anna cried
"10,000 strong" I answered
Anna fell into despair as the buzzing war cries grew louder. I could see that she had given up and would sacrifice herself to the oncoming swarms.
"We must ride out to meet them" I said
"ride with me! one last time"
Slowly I saw courage surge through her bones despite the inevitability of assault which lay before us. We looked upon each other perhaps for the last time and then ran.
Wave upon wave of mosquitoes attacked but the speed of my waving hands troubled them. Many mosquitoes were falling in battle but still I felt the continuous pricks of these blood thirsty demons biting into my flesh. Our paths became steep and Anna began to slow down to the point where she was walking. I did what any man would do in such a situation and kept on running, leaving Anna to her doom. Heroically I beat back the waves and made it to the van with only a few minor bites. Anna on the other hand was a see of red and I could foresee a sleepless night of itching. For the moment though the mosquitoes were at bay, but for how long I could not say. The battle had ended, But the war had just begun. . .