Andrea Johnson Photography

 

Bali

Krazy Kuta

“TRANSPORT? MASSAGE? BRAID YOUR HAIR? SARONG? TOE RING? PINEAPPLE? HASHISH?”

The endless barrage of hawkers accosted us while we walked down the street attempting to dodge them, puddles, and the screeching motor scooters that zoomed by perilously close. Welcome to Indonesia and it’s most popular tourist destination, Kuta Beach.

Travelers have a love/hate relationship with this city of sin. Backpacker facilities are plentiful and cheap – rooms average only US$4.50 a night, tasty wood oven pizzas and a large Bintang beer cost just a buck each. The rupee has remained devalued since the Asian economic crisis – the average Indonesian worker earns only US$25 a month. It’s a place that encourages excesses; buying too much from the hundreds of surf, handicraft, and silver shops that line every street; eating and partying ’til sunrise at the packed restaurants, bars, and clubs; surfing too long at Kuta’s easily accessible consistent beach breaks that are polluted with sewage that eventually makes everyone sick.

Yet in the middle of this chaos, pieces of traditional Balinese culture still survive. Every morning Hindus place offering baskets of food, incense, and flowers at the entrance to their shops, homes, and in shrines that are a familiar sight at every corner. Women still walk along traffic-clogged streets carrying baskets of fruit on their heads to bring to the market or a ceremony. Even in the courtyard of our hotel we enjoyed an interesting contrast watching the owners perform an elaborate anniversary ceremony while backpackers continued to wander through in their swimsuits carrying surfboards.

An essential art Indonesians have mastered is bargaining. Westerners are constantly targeted and usually quoted prices 10 times higher for ‘tourists’ than locals. Unscrupulous ‘authorized’ moneychangers are everywhere. We noticed the tip off to possible rip-off when finding posted exchange rates that seemed too good to be true. On two separate occasions we were entertained by these sly characters. Our first attempt to change US$100 (which equals $1,130,000 rupees) was an example of short-changing. Upon careful counting we noticed the agent kept adding small bills to the pile, insisting to keep a small amount of our money for himself for ‘good luck’. Finally we were disgusted and exited to find another moneychanger, shouting in the street, “This guy’s a thief!” The second character was much sneakier. He quickly entered an amount on his calculator showing the total while handing over the rupees. Had we not been suspicious we could have easily overlooked that his calculator didn’t work correctly and he ‘miscalculated’ the amount by 90,000 rupees in his favor. We learned to always count our cash before leaving since ‘honest’ little mistakes seem to happen frequently in Bali.

Another tourist rip off is the long arm of the law, which is always reaching out palm turned up! Bali police set up roadblocks and target tourists in rentals cars and motor scooters. We had been lucky enough to avoid them for a month until getting nabbed by one of their street corner outposts. We were ushered into an outhouse-sized office and informed of our violations. No international driver’s license (fine $50,000 rupees), impeding traffic – we stopped at a red light, getting in the way of those running it! (fine $30,000 rupees), and running a red light because we stopped after the painted line (fine $40,000 rupees). We now owed $120,000 rupees in fines which were payable in front of a judge at the city courthouse…OR the helpful police could take care of our fine for us (wink, wink) if we would just give them the money.

Fortunately, before we had entered the office we quickly removed all but $51,000 rupees from our pockets and hid it. During our interrogation we convinced the police that this was all the money we had and plea bargained our fine down to ‘coincidentally’ $51,000 rupees. As we reached for our cash and held it up high enough for anyone passing by to see, they excitedly pushed our hands down out of view, which we quickly lifted up again just for the fun of it. Putting on our helmets and thanking the officers for their help we hopped on our scooter and rode off laughing about our ‘bribery in Bali’ experience. Something anyone visiting Bali can also be guaranteed to experience is genuinely friendly, helpful, and honest people, unfortunately it just takes some work find them.

Our real reason for basing ourselves in Kuta was to escape on daily surf safari adventures. Thirty years ago Kuta beach was ‘discovered’ as a surfers’ Mecca; now it’s overwhelmed with tourists, traffic, and hawkers, a paradise lost. After reuniting with Jay, he showed us a secret route that would eventually escape the busy streets and police by taking dirt paths through plantations and cow pastures, ending up at surf spots with names like Balangan, Nyang Nyang, Padang Padang, Impossibles, Ulu Watu, and Dreamland. More often than not the surf was on a shallow reef break or too big for beginners like us, so we relaxed on the beach watching Jay rip it up. On smaller surf days at sandy beach breaks we managed to catch a few waves of our own.

Day & Jay preparing for a day of surfing at Dreamland beach, Bali

Another easy day trip from Kuta (although we recommend spending at least four days) is Ubud, the ‘cultural center’ of Bali. Stepping off the bus in Ubud we were promptly greeted with a variety of accommodation and transport options.  We chose the Tutick house, a small house situated in a garden setting away from street noise; it was clean, included a full breakfast, and had hot showers.   Ubud is known for having the best prices and selection on traditional handicrafts, and nearby Celuk for sterling silver. Jay needed to purchase sarongs and jewellry for his enterprising business and we got the chance to act as shopping consultants. We also spent a day on our scooters riding around the nearby volcano and marveling at the beautifully terraced rice paddies that are still cultivated by hand

Ubud rice paddies

In the evenings we enjoyed the varied nightlife and splurged on a gourmet dinner that rivaled many of our favorite restaurants at home in Portland. We also had the opportunity to see a traditional Balinese dance show at the palace temple; it was both strange and interesting, with ornate costumes and complex movements,  – we would have needed an interpreter to understand the play’s meaning.  To our surprise Ubud even had a jazz club with live music so we checked it out and had a great time listening to the energetic band. Although known as a tourist town, Ubud didn’t have that over-run atmosphere we dread, and was a refreshing change of pace.

If you really want to get away from it all, head to the Gili Islands just off the mainland on Lombok. Leaving at 5 am, we caught Kuta sleeping while waiting for our transport. The partiers had staggered to bed, motor scooters hadn’t started their daily assault, and the tourist’s shops were closed – even the hotel staff was fast asleep on the floor in front of the reception.

Our trip to Gili Air was a 14-hour journey the cheap way (or a 3 hour flight for those with more money than time). Our itinerary included a local bus, slow ferry, another local bus and ended with an ocean-drenching small boat. Arriving on Gili Air just after sunset, we raced to find accommodation before dark, which we discovered wasn’t easy. Locals kept saying “island full, no rooms”. Walking the sandy trail nearly around the island we found a very rustic thatched hut that probably was the last room available, so we kicked out the mice and moved in. Tired, grumpy, and hungry we collapsed in the heat and tried to sleep. The rooster alarm clock awoke us early so we had breakfast and decided to search for better accommodations, hoping that some people had checked out. Luckily we found a newly constructed bungalow and we were the first people to stay in it.

The three Gili Islands, Taranga (party island), Meno (solitude island), and Air (a mix of both) are void of any vehicles except horse drawn carts, thus offering us the quiet slow pace we needed. We spent our days sneaking into the nearby expensive hotel pool (rooms US$28 per night), laying in our hammock, recovering from a bout of Bali belly, reading, talking, writing stories, and watching sunsets from the unique individual eating platforms.

People may wonder why would we need to relax since we’re traveling for 14 months. Fun as it’s been, traveling cheaply, doing our own planning, and trying to stay healthy takes work. Recharged after eight days we moved on, using the same transport method in reverse. Our total round trip transport cost was US$18 dollars for two. In fact, during our entire six week Indonesia stay we only spent U.S. $693 for all our accommodations, meals, transportation, & entertainment – by far the best bargain of our trip thus far.  I guess we got exactly what we paid for and more.

Dale & I surfing


Sabah

Our 10-day Sabah Saga

There’s one travel truth I should have learned by now: if you plan an inflexible itinerary something will always happen to put a kink in it. Dale and I only had a 10 day layover in Sabah, so upon arriving in the capital city of Kota Kinabalu we planned to make the most efficient use of our time by booking a series of discounted, non-refundable tours.  Included was a scuba dive lodging & meal package on the island resort of Sipidan, reservations at a jungle lodge to visit a orangutan rehabilitation center, and  permits to climb Mt. Kinabalu, a 13,000 foot volcano.  I knew it would be a grueling schedule even under ideal circumstances, but certainly hadn’t planned on the additional challenges of getting Dengue Fever, a scratched cornea, a cold, and my toenail falling off!

My misfortune began our first evening in Sabah.  After finishing our bookings, I began to feel queasy and tried to go to sleep early. That night I was surprised by how quickly & violently tropical illnesses take root. By 2 a.m. it was undeniable that the horrible throbbing in my head and aching of my body wasn’t just caused by the loud music vibrating our hostel room from the karaoke bar below. At first I thought I was coming down with a nasty case of the flu, but I had to admit my symptoms matched the definition of Dengue fever stated in the Lonely Planet’s “Healthy Travel Asia” book:

“The illness usually starts quite suddenly with fever, headache, nausea and vomiting, and joint and muscle pains. The aches and pains can be severe…and many travelers report experiencing extreme tiredness with muscle wasting and lack of energy for several weeks…”

Those pesky mosquito bites I got in Manila turned out to be more of a pain than I ever imagined.

I was determined to regain my health quickly since our tours couldn’t be postponed for long.. After two days rest I convinced myself I was on the mend when the second incident happened. I woke in the middle of the night, this time to a piercing pain in my eye – debris had slipped under my contact and scratched my cornea. When we really couldn’t delay our trip to Sipidan any longer Dale led me, a weak hobbling ‘pirate’ with a patch over my eye, on our long journey to the island.

Sipidan, scuba diver's paradise

Scuba divers have voted Sipidan as “the best beach dive in the world” and we agree. Only 45 feet from shore the reef drops off dramatically from 9 to 90 feet. From the Borneo Diver’s pier you can sit and watch sharks and turtles lazily swim through the clear shallow water covering the reef directly underneath. After another day of rest I was well enough to join Dale on a few of the boat dives and was not disappointed for my efforts. The most unusual aspect of these dives was the amazing amount of turtles we saw on a consistent basis. They often allowed us to approach closely; we were dwarfed by their size and amazed how gracefully an 80-year-old specimen could swim.

Scuba diving next to 80 year old turtle, Sipidan

Back on Borneo, traveling up the eastern Sabah coastline proved to be another adventure. No deluxe air-conditioned buses were available so we rode as the locals do – on a converted minivan. Its original seats had been stripped and replaced with rows of closely placed benches. Our vehicle, which regularly seated six passengers, was crammed with 12 adults and 6 kids. Luckily our large backpacks were allowed on since they provided extra seats in the isle. Besides the occasional screams from the babies and men who constantly puffed away on their cigarettes, everyone was amazingly calm – even we managed to stay still squeezed in our tiny space like accordions.

Upon reaching our next destination we were relieved to discover the room we pre-booked was in a quiet, spacious lodge at the edge of the jungle. The orangutan feeding platform at the rehabilitation center was a pleasant fifteen-minute walk through virgin forest. By the afternoon the tour buses had departed leaving more orangutans than people in the preserve. Two friendly male orangutans found Dale especially entertaining. Although we tried not to disturb them in their habitat they quickly approached us and attached themselves to Dale like a long lost relative.

Two baby Orangutans jumped the fence and attached themselves to Dale

By the time we reached Mt. Kinabalu I’d regained my health if not my strength. Since climbing this volcano is the number one tourist attraction in Sabah, I thought, “How hard can it be?” At our dorm room in the hostel we met other like-minded hikers and decided to team up with four of them to share the cost of the required guide.  We woke early the next morning to prepare for a long days. It was distinctively cooler at the base of the mountain (3,000 feet elevation), so we dressed in pants, long sleeved shirts, and wore shoes for the first time in five months. Although my nose began to dribble with this sudden climate change we welcomed the cool air since we began to sweat just 15 minutes into the hike. The first day of hiking was all uphill, ascending 6,000 feet through sub tropic, temperate, and alpine regions. The trail was well trodden with occasional handrails and 2,500 man made steps spaced along the more difficult sections, but I couldn’t help but think, “This is the Stairmaster from hell!”

Harry, our patient Malaysian guide, was required to stay with the slowest member of the group (me) and Dale kept the same pace weighed down with carrying both our daily supplies in one pack. Six hours after beginning we struggled into the mid mountain lodge, our final destination for the day. We collapsed in the dining room, drank hot tea, and enjoyed impressive views as mist drifted apart to reveal glimpses of the valley far below and imposing granite towers near the summit. Not only could I barely move, but also I regrettably resigned myself to acknowledging – you guessed it – that I was sick again, this time with a cold.

For the non-acclimatized it is difficult to sleep at high elevations. We arose the next morning at 2 a.m. after a night of restless sleep to continue up to the summit in time to watch the sunrise. The final 4,000 feet was by far the steepest and most treacherous section of the trail and we climbed with just our headlamps and the full moon to illuminate the way. Dale was doubtful that I would make it to the top in my condition, and I’m sure Harry agreed but was too polite to say anything. When we reached a section of seemingly endless granite boulders so sheer that we had to grab ropes bolted to the rock in order to scramble up their faces, I began to wonder myself if I’d succeed. At 5 am we reached the top of a peak that allowed us to finally see the summit above – that view was the inspiration I needed. By 5:45 a.m. we reached the summit just in time to watch a spectacular sunrise.

summit of Mr. Kinabalu

Most people believe that climbing down a mountain is far easier than going up, but I had my reservations about descending 10,000 feet with my already wobbly legs. We stopped for a hearty breakfast back at the mid mountain lodge at 9 a.m., grabbed our pack, and continued down. Marathon athletes compete in an eco-challenge race every September, jogging up and running down this volcano trail to complete the entire circuit as quickly as two hours forty-five minutes. For us, it took nearly as long to descend as ascend.

For the last three hours we walked in a complete downpour, and when the trail transformed into a muddy river it didn’t help quicken our progress. By the time we reached the bottom our leg muscles were like spaghetti and we couldn’t bare the sight of any steps, up or down! I lost one toenail, and Dale lost two along with his desire to hike anything else for the rest of our trip. Myself? I think our toenails will grow back by October, just in time to see what the Himalayas might have in store for us.

Palau, Micronesia

Palau: Our Pacific Paradise

Palau, a group of islands in Micronesia, is not a typical stop for independent travelers. Just getting there requires some effort; for us it took four layovers and six days due to our circuitous route and missed flight. Because of its isolation from nearest neighbors (about 800 miles east of the Philippines and 800 miles S.W. of Guam) and population of only about 20,000 residents, once we arrived we were rewarded with an idyllic small-community, tropical island atmosphere. We were amazed to discover that the roads didn’t even have names or street signs! After our brief foray into the hustle of S.E. Asia and our imminent return shortly hereafter, we vowed to make the most of Palau’s remote natural beauty and tranquility.

Our main challenge to enjoying this Pacific paradise was money. Until recently Palau was an American territory so its currency is in US dollars – we no longer had the advantage of a favorable exchange rate. In addition, since most visitors to Palau are tourists from the US or Japan on short package holidays, prices are reflected accordingly.  For our first few nights we stayed at the cheapest place we could find in the capital city Koror, at the D.W. motel for $50 a night. Although it was clean and the Palaun owners nice, it was bland – not the way we wanted to spend a good hunk of our daily budget. Then serendipitous encounters led us to friendly American expats who found creative solutions to our budget challenge.

Ron Leidich, founder of Planet Blue Sea Kayak Tours, helped us jump start our Palauan explorations. Being a frequent independent traveler himself, Ron understood our situation and worked out an adventurous yet economical plan. Typically he guides day, multi-day, and even several week tours through Palau’s famous Rock Islands. Since we couldn’t afford the standard package for a multi-day trip, Ron provided the next best option – a do-it-yourself itinerary. He reviewed maps with us of a proposed three-day route, which sounded great, so we happily left the D.W. motel the next morning. After we loaded our two-person sit on top kayak with our camping and cooking gear we headed off following Ron’s directions.

Over 340 islands comprise the archipelago of Palau, which doesn’t even include the countless number of small rock islands. To our uninitiated eyes they all looked the same, making navigation a challenge. Mid-morning we flagged down a fishing boat to verify where we were on the map, and later that afternoon we caught up to and tagged along with part of Ron’s guided tour. When we ventured close to the shorelines of the rock islands we noticed that features, which were hidden from a distance view became easily visible when viewed close up.

Before Ron returned home with his group he pointed us in the right direction towards our next destination, the cathedral cave. Silently gliding through the calm waters of a low entrance, high ceiling cave covered with stalactites was dramatic even without the knowledge of how these formations were created. Unfortunately we only had time for a quick stop before the tide began to lower, exposing patches of reef:  If we had waited any longer approaching our campsite would have become too treacherous.

Kayaking through Palau's rock islands

Camping on a secluded uninhabited island was the ideal way to experience its peaceful natural environment. Once our initial concerns about getting lost disappeared we found it surprisingly simple to fend for ourselves. Our first two nights camping were on Lee Marvin Beach, a beautiful setting complete with a small covered shelter, outhouse, and water basin full of rainwater.

Each day we followed Ron’s advice about the best spots to visit and excursions to rarely visited marine lakes and caves; his itinerary minimized our paddling efforts since we traveled the same direction as the prevailing tides. Our kayak was stable and comfortable and best of all its design left our bodies exposed so that we could splash ourselves while still paddling to cool off – very important since Palau is only seven degrees north of the equator thus is consistently hot and humid.

Visiting the German Lighthouse, the highest point in the rock islands, wasn’t as easy of an endeavor. WWII cannons, barracks, pill boxes, and other relics were scattered about the route; although an old war road leads the way to the top it is still a hot, tiring trek through the jungle – especially while carrying camping gear, food and water! We pitched our tent on a tiny clearing at the rocky base of the lighthouse. As luck would have it, all night it rained forcing us to put on the fly and turning our tent into a steam sauna. However, the sunset and sunrise view overlooking a large group of the rock islands, and the kudos of respect from the locals upon returning made the jaunt well worth the trouble. Some Palauans thought we were crazy for camping someplace they believed is haunted with the ghosts of Japanese solders who were killed at that location.

The Tarzan Tour can only be done three days a month when the tides are at just the right levels and time of day. Created as an ‘extreme adventure’ including cliff jumps, rope swings, and cave dives”, we couldn’t pass up on this opportunity. With Ron’s marine biology background  we were able to better understand  the complex ecosystems and explore secret spots he discovered. There were only two other people on our kayak tour (a quiet Russian couple) so for us it was an ideal small group exploration.

Our first stop was Lost Lake, which we entered by kayaking through a small marine tunnel that is only exposed at low tide. This hidden lake had colorful soft coral fans along the entrance and excellent snorkeling that included blue-lipped clams and feathery lionfish. Tarzan Lake was our second stop, and this time the tunnel to enter the lake was so tiny that we had to leave our kayaks tied up at the shoreline of the rock island and snorkel in. Everyone enjoyed swinging from a long overhanging vine and calling out Tarzan yells before dropping into the lake.  For our final big thrill we free dove into the crystal filled air chambers of the Blue Room. The entrance to the first portion of the cave was about 10 feet underwater and the tunnel continued 15 feet or so before opening up so we could swim up to the surface. The second portion of the cave was a quicker swim underwater into a smaller, stalactite filled cavern filled with streaks of light and beautiful blue hue. The third chamber of this cave was a longer swim through a tunnel about 20 feet deep and another 15 feet long – only the guys opted to venture here.

While paddling through these destinations Ron taught us about the nature and geology of the Rock Islands. He used an analogy to explain how the undercut mushroom-shaped limestone formations came into existence: The rock islands have eroded in a similar process as icebergs, which melt unevenly and are eroded by waves causing large chunks of ice to break away.  Initially a large limestone mass pushed up to the surface of the ocean.   Then over thousands of years the triple forces of waves, acids created by rainwater mixing with leaves, and chitins chewing away at the shoreline working their magic. These formations are truly unique, and kayaking through this wonderland for five days only wetted our desire to experience them more in depth.

sharks are common encounters scuba diving at Palau

Palau is most famous as a world-class diving destination known for  big fish, strong currents, and huge wall drop offs.   In a typical day of scuba diving with Sam’s Diving Tours we saw a plethora o spectacular sights including: a 40 foot vertical column of spiraling pyramid butterfly fish, several hundred barracuda swimming together in a school, oversized Napoleon Wrasses & Parrot Fish as large as a human, huge turtles, and countless gray, black tip, and white tip reef sharks.

One of our most memorable diving days was at the famous Blue Corner dive site. This dive is truly a sensory overload; on our four previous dives at Blue Corner we drifted with the current and casually hooked in to the edge of the reef wall so that we remained stationary to watch all the action drift by. This dive was a lot different – the current was ripping! When we reached the reef plateau we hooked in and the sensation was incredible – our skin flapped like a sky diving free fall and the water pressure threatened to rip off our masks and regulators. The strong current finally found a weak point – almost simultaneously our reef hooks straightened out under it’s force and we both had to grab for a handhold to keep from being ‘blown’ off the reef. While fighting to hold on, Andrea managed to take a photo – I look like I’m in a wind tunnel.  Twenty-nine minutes later (one of our shorter dives) we floated on the surface so pumped with adrenalin we couldn’t contain ourselves. That dive was UNBELIEVABLE – words could never describe it! We both I agreed that out of our cumulative 250 dives that one was definitely the most memorable.

Next on the itinerary was Jellyfish Lake, at the complete opposite end of the spectrum from Blue Corner. Calmly we floated among thousands of non-stinging jellyfish trapped in a marine rock island lake – it was incredible feeling their soft delicate bodies brush against us, a surreal sensory experience. How do you finish a day like this? Have a relaxing tasty lunch on a white sandy beach then dive on a WWII sunken cargo shipwreck. Looming up from 100 foot plus depths the Iro‘s huge bulk is easily visible & still intact: It’s body, masts, and big guns have been transformed into a colorful coral garden paradise, completely encrusted with razor clams & home to many fish species.

non-stinging jellyfish, Jellyfish Lake

That day of scuba diving may never be topped. Palau is world class and our efforts to get there were rewarded beyond our wildest imaginations. Every single dive had so many things to see we could go back time and time again and never experience it all – but we’ll certainly try again anyway!

When we weren’t scuba diving or kayaking we found other adventures on Babeldaob, the largest island in Palau. One day we joined Greg, an expat lawyer who formerly worked in Portland, for a self guided four-wheel drive tour around the island.  Bouncing around the rough clay roads three hours up to the far tip of the island, we saw ancient stone monoliths, a Bai- an interestingly decorated men’s house, and swam under a waterfall. It was a great way to meet the locals since a lack of road signs necessitated many stops.

PHOTOs:  waterfall, bai

We were surprised by the number of Pacific Northwest expats living in Palau.  Sam, the owner of Sam’s Diving Tours, is a Pacific Northwest expat who grew up in Olympia, WA and moved to Palau over 20 years ago. Starting his own diving operation and building on his success, he has established a very successful business while still managing to create a casual and comfortable atmosphere. Sam’s generosity provided us with an interesting place to call home – his personal sailboat anchored a short kayak paddle away.

Sam’s Bottom Time Bar & Grill is like the “Cheers” bar of Koror. Hanging out at Bottom Time we made new friends, exchanged travel stories, drank Red Rooster beer, and ate the freshest and cheapest sashimi we’ve ever discovered. Dermot, Sam’s general manager originally from Ireland, came to Palau to escape to the Rock Islands. He has traveled and sailed to many great places but Palau has hooked and kept him. Dermot’s Pacific N.W. connection was a three-month stay in Portland while refurbishing a sailboat (his favorite place was… Kell’s Irish Pub of course!)   Dermot’s Palauan wife, Kaud, fell in love with my turtle necklace – I considered trading it in exchange for diving but just couldn’t let it go. She treated us to a huge mangrove crab, a local delicacy, which we enjoyed to its last little morsel. Ron, founder of Planet Blue Kayak Tours, is a graduate from Oregon State University. His enthusiastic spirit and can-do attitude was the catalyst that created our Palauan good fortune. He loves Palau and its nature, so we volunteered to help him protect it by spending half a day collecting destructive reef killing “crown of thorns” starfish – an experience we thoroughly enjoyed.

It’s not always the place, often it’s the people we meet that brings us the best memories. Palau and Sam’s Dive Tours crew offered us an abundance of both.  Palau is definitely another place we’ll come back to visit!

Sailing Whitsunday Islands

“The weather started getting rough, the tiny ship was tossed. If it wasn’t for the courage of the fearless crew, Bojangles would be lost…”

Captain Dale yelled, “Hang on!” Our stomachs dropped as we plunged down the backside of the swell. Swallowed in its trough, we looked up at the next approaching wave that loomed above and threatened to broadside our sailboat. Our torn jib flapped helplessly in the wind while we struggled to make headway against the tide. The ocean, in this exposed passage, was even rougher than we had expected.

A year ago we took sailing lessons hoping for an opportunity to sail sometime during our journey. Our preparation wasn’t wasted – we arranged to charter a bareboat yacht together with another couple, Julie & Anthony, who also planned a Great Barrier Reef vacation. By splitting the costs between four people, preparing our own food, and mooring away from large resorts, we were able to afford seven days of skippering our own luxury 35-foot sailboat (costs averaged just US$44 per person per day but could have been much higher without negotiating a ‘special deal’).

The night before setting sail we all arrived in Airlie Beach, the launching point for our Whitsunday Island adventure.  We stocked up at the grocery store with a week’s worth of provisions & after stowing our gear in our boat we were ready for the morning orientation at the Whitsunday Escape office. Vit, our laid back instructor, gave us the low down on places to sail and our boat, Bojangles. Then upon passing an open book test he graduated us from class – we were amazed that with our little combined experience the four of us were deemed competent sailors. Soon afterwards Vit guided Bojangles out of the harbor advising us to keep the motor running and mainsail reefed in for storm conditions. It was a daunting experience to begin sailing in choppy seas with winds gusting up to 25 knots. With Vit’s final words of encouragement, “Have fun!” we were on our own.

Dale & I navigating stormy weather

Once firmly anchored to overnight in Cid Harbor we relaxed with a glass of wine on and relaxed after our first big day of sailing. Vit had stressed the importance of anchoring well to keep the boat securely positioned against the dramatic tidal variations and gusty winds. We soon realized his concern was warranted when we noticed a nearby sailboat drift, dragging its anchor (fortunately the boats occupants took action in time to avoid a collision with another boat).

The next morning we awoke to a crisis – our boat had no coffee maker! Thinking quickly, Julie and Anthony solved the problem by boiling coffee grounds and straining them through a bandana. Savoring our morning brew we awaited the 8 a.m. radio weather forecast which was followed by a boat check-in. Using proper radio etiquette, we responded to our first call: “Bojangles, Bojangles, Bojangles, this is Whitsunday Escape. What are your intentions for the day? Over,” by answering “Whitsunday Escape, this is Bojangles. We plan on setting sail for Macona Inlet and anchoring for the night. Over.” With our plan approved we signed off and set about making breakfast.

A daily routine was easily established; coffee, radio check-in, a scrumptious breakfast, a late start for the next destination, a few hours of sailing, anchoring, then leisurely preparing the evening feast. Our most difficult decision of the day was which bottles of wine should accompany dinner. We rationed ourselves to two bottles per night of Australia’s finest wines collected during the group’s travels, and hoped we could survive on these ‘meager’ portions.

Whitsunday Islands sunset

Captain Dale usually took the helm and the seasoned crew handled the sails. Our guards were down after enjoying several days of easy sailing when a sudden rainstorm surprised us. With limited visibility, strong winds, and driving rain, controlling Bojangles instantly turned into organized chaos. Then, as quickly as it began, the storm moved on leaving us heading 180 degrees off our original course. We made a mental note – take a compass heading for a clear course before it’s needed!

Casual sailors rarely visit the isolated Border Island and its tiny beautiful bay. In order to reach this coral fringed island boats must negotiate a narrow, swirly passage during an outgoing tide before crossing an unprotected rough channel. The weather had finally cleared enough for Whitsunday Escape to approve our visit, and everyone was excited to go ashore after the long trip. Dale chose to hop off the sailboat and paddle his surfboard 150 yards to shore. Julie, Anthony and I loaded the outboard-motored dinghy with camera gear and supplies (beach towels, snorkel gear, and beers) for a fun excursion.

From a unique vantage point onshore, Dale watched an interesting situation unfold:

“Having just paddled against the gusting wind and tiptoeing barefoot across the coral I stood, surprised they were attempting to get ashore. The shallow reef was virtually impassable at low tide, something I thought they had noticed. Opting to use oars to protect the reef (not a bad idea) they killed the motor and lifted it out of the water. Gusts of wind spun the dinghy as their unsuccessful rowing made no headway.

Laughing while watching the ‘Dinghy Three’ drifting, spinning, and struggling, I was relieved when it appeared the beach excursion had been aborted. Anthony put the motor back in the water and attempted to start it while Julie and Andrea continued to paddle. The wind was quickly pushing them away and I thought “throw out the anchor before you drift too far”. Apparently it was too late – they were already drifting out to sea.

I scrambled for my surfboard and started cautiously tip toeing out to the deeper water, hoping to paddle to the nearby yacht and organize a rescue. Fortunately the guys on the yacht had enjoyed watching the entire comical escapade and launched a dinghy to retrieve my fearless crew! Fifteen minutes later I reached the rescuers’ boat. There was a noisy party underway and I readied myself for the grief I expected to receive. Five simple words saved me…

‘Permission to come aboard, captain!’ By blind luck I had addressed the captain and over the roar of laughter from his drunken crew permission was granted. Andrea and Julie were obviously the ‘honored’ guests of the party – the male only crew acted as if they hadn’t seen women for months. Anthony, however, wasn’t being ignored. Our dinghy’s motor problem had mysteriously fixed itself and the good-natured Aussies poked fun at him from all directions. Six hours, twenty bottles of fine wine, and tons of gourmet food later we were back on Bojangles laughing about the good fortune of the ‘Dinghy Three’.”

The next morning we left Border Island unaware of the wild adventure we would encounter next. Bojangles was in need of repair – its jib had been torn on an improperly installed piece of rigging. After a brief discussion and 8 a.m. radio call the solution emerged: We were to sail to Hamilton Island for the needed repair.

Whitsunday Escape had OK’d us to sail through the Solway passage, hinting that it may be a little rough. Normally bareboat charters were discouraged from taking this route because of its strong currents, exposure to gusty winds, and large swells. But from our location it was the quickest route, so after a late start we sailed off. Whitecaps and large waves crashed on the rocks ahead indicating that we should prepare for a rough ride. “Hang on!” Dale yelled.

Our boat accelerated as we plunged into the wave’s trough and then stalled momentarily before climbing the next 10-foot plus swell. Water crashed over the bow as we attempted to maintain course. We needed more speed – our torn jib was useless so the entire mainsail needed to be raised. The boat dropped beneath our feet as we climbed up on deck and made our way forward to the bow in order to untie the reef lines around the mainsail. Anthony readied himself to raise the sail and Dale continued to navigate the boat while shouting out warnings as each large swell tossed the boat. The moment the mainsail lines were free, Dale yelled, “Raise the main!” Anthony cranked on the winch, and Julie returned to the relative safety of the cockpit.

The extra mainsail gave us the speed we needed to cross the channel and leave the rough Solway passage behind. Our last night, safely docked at Hamilton Island Resort, we once again faced our toughest decision…which wines should we have with dinner?

Overall during our  79 days in Australia we drove slightly over 10,000 miles.  Even given the great distances we traveled, we still didn’t see everything we wanted to. So, another time we look forward to returning to Australia to visit Perth, the Bungle Bungles, Darwin, and to scuba dive on the outer Great Barrier Reef.   Luckily, we sold our Subie for Aussie $2,000 (so the car only ended up costing us about U.S. $250 for parts we fixed and another U.S. $1,000 for fuel) to a nice Canadian couple who promised to take good care of Sunshine. We already miss the conveniences of driving and having somewhere to carry all our stuff. Australia is definitely a place we’ll come back to.

The Red Center: Driving in the Unforgettable Outback

No air-conditioning, tinted windows, radio/ tape player, or shocks. Sunshine, our faded-yellow ’83 Subaru wagon, labored down the outback highway fairing just slightly better than us in the oppressive heat. We drove 12 hours a day for 3 days straight, over 1,200 miles from Townsville on the Queensland coast to Alice Springs in the center of Australia, stopping only for fuel and food at gas stations. The sun, a merciless blinding orb, relentlessly shone into the car with a surprising intensity. After the first day of driving we actually longed for a cooling rain, which continued to haunt us relentlessly during our journey.

Outback Highway

The outback highways are ruled by wildlife and road trains. At sunrise we began driving just as the lizards awoke to bake on the bitumen and the birds of prey swooped down to feed on last night’s road kill of kangaroos and cows. Hawks stood two feet tall on legs thick as a man’s forearm and glared at us from the roadside as we drove by.  Lorikeets (rainbow colored parrots) played ‘chicken’ with our car, flying alongside and darting in front of & behind us. Other birds hadn’t mastered this dance & dive-bombed our car  – we hit a few despite our attempts to avert their death wish. One time we dared to drive at night when it became even more apparent we were travelling through wild land. Kangaroos, who hid in the shade during daylight, suddenly leapt at out from the bush and hopped across the road in front of our headlights. Most roads passed through unfenced grazing areas so we were accustomed to seeing cows on the roadside & the occasional herds crossing in front of us. In the dark, however, cows simply stood in the middle of the road and stared into our headlights. We nearly collided with one after cresting a small hill; it never budged as we screeched to a halt, honking madly. Road trains (big trucks with 3-5 trailers totalling 300 feet) also impeded our progress. At times the main highway was only wide enough for one vehicle, so each time we encountered a road train we wisely ‘gave way’, which left us coughing and blinded by a swirling cloud of red dust from the soft shoulder.

The isolation of the outback is hard to describe to anyone who hasn’t travelled there for an extended period of time. Often the road stretched out in front of us, straight and flat, with no signs of human inhabitation for distances as far as we could see. Many of the lands we passed were Aboriginal reserves: If the Aborigines had returned to this land they left no apparent tracks. Few people can withstand the harshness of this climate – our car thermometer often reached 115 degrees Fahrenheit, which felt almost unbearable as our sweaty bodies stuck to the vinyl car seats.

Since we only had two weeks to spend in the outback we sped to and from our destinations in the center as quickly as possible. When we did take the time to slow down for the night we found little used dirt roads to drive down and pitch our tent.  After sunset we noticed sounds and sights we never would elsewhere. At first the silence was eerie and we both complained of a ringing sound in our ears (was this ringing always there in the background, but we had never noticed it before?). Then we began to notice small noises, such as the beating wings of a moth flying overhead. Occasionally we were unlucky enough to share our campsite with mozzies (aka mosquitoes); their buzz seemed so loud it sounded like we were being attacked by B-52 bomber planes. Most nights were clear and moonless and the southern sky lit up with a brilliant display of stars. The sky was so free of light pollution that the beginning and end of the Milky Way was clearly visible, and on several occasions we saw the entire trail of shooting stars streak across the sky.  The Southern Cross was easy to spot along with Mars, the small but bright bluish-green Jupiter, and golden Venus.  Each morning we awoke to the singing of birds and saw the stars disappear into the colors of the sunrise.

Our rustic outback campsite

As we approached Alice Springs the rain began to chase us, making us curse our earlier wish. Roads became overflowed with newly formed rivers, causing us to stop at each flooded area to wade across and test the depth before proceeding. Unseasonably high rainfall was forecast for the next several days, so we decided to continue driving to the opal town of Coober Pedy, one of the driest spots in Australia. We would then work our way back up to Alice Springs via Uluru, the Olgas, and Kings Canyon, driving the back roads. Actually we were happy to continue driving – the outback literally and figuratively had gotten into our skin and we weren’t ready to wash it off and return to the city.

Several science fiction movies have been filmed in Coober Pedy, and it became apparent why as soon as we entered town.  The desolate, lunar-type landscape looked like it was from the scene of post atomic battlefield. Old rusted cars, trucks, and mining equipment were strewn about, showcased as art for tourists to view; the flat, dry and dusty land was spotted with mounds of pink earth piled high next to the countless opal mines; and the majority of the town’s residents lived and worked in underground buildings dug into the hills. Our long journey to reach this destination felt oddly justified; we came to the outback to experience something different and were surrounded by bizarre human and natural landscapes.

It is not uncommon for temperatures to soar upwards of 120 degrees F during the Dec-Feb summer months, yet in March we enjoyed the coolest weather we’d encountered in Australia. Days were pleasant with low humidity and 75 degrees F highs, and evenings were cool enough for a sweater, which hardly made it necessary to remain underground. Nevertheless, we enjoyed the novelty of our underground hostel accommodation and drinking beers with the bartender while watching the movie “Mad Max”. When we did venture outside it was easy to walk everywhere – we covered most of the town in about an hour. An old fashioned mine tour was a fun excursion where we stooped through tunnels to see opal seams exposed in the sandstone and displays of how opal was originally mined in early 1900’s. Afterwards, we opted for modern opal viewing – shopping at the dozens of opal outlets. I was looking for a bracelet to fit my small wrist, so a helpful Aussie recommended the custom jewellery makers at the Opal Cutter. In about 2 hours (ok, I’m picky!) I had chosen the opals and designs for both a custom bracelet and pendant, and by the next day the jewellery was made – all at a very affordable price. That evening we celebrated my jewellery find over dinner at one of the many Greek restaurants in town. It was an interesting ambiance, divided between rowdy mine workers relaxing with a cold beer, locals enjoying the fine dining, and backpackers egging on ‘Crocodile Harry’ as he ranted in a drunken stupor.

The next day we decided to drive along a portion of the historic dog fence to the Breakaways Canyon. This fence is Australia’s equivalent to the Great Wall of China – it’s 3,300 miles long and was erected in the early 1900’s to protect farmer’s sheep and cattle from wild dingo dogs. We weren’t sure if this fence or simply the harsh climate kept away wild creatures – this stretch of desert was the most lifeless land we encountered. The stark landscape with its striking multi-colored sandstone canyon walls was the perfect backdrop for a remote campsite. We fell asleep without hearing a single mozzie and woke up to a silent dawn, the only time we’ve ever been camping and heard no singing/squawking birds in the morning.

Continuing on the Stuart Highway towards Uluru National Park, our anticipation of first glimpsing the monolith grew.  Featured on the cover of most Aussie guidebooks, this immense mound of red rock juts up abruptly from the relatively flat landscape of the outback near the geographic center of the continent.  The ‘red heart’ of Australia has long been an important spiritual center for the Aborigines and has more recently become a pilgrimage for worldwide travelers.  Gradually the landscape changed from flat orange scrub to small undulating hills covered with more lush vegetation and red sandy dirt.  Rounding a bend, we suddenly saw Uluru looming in the distance.  Even through the rain the rock stood out – towering 1,141 feet tall and .2 miles wide – an impressive sight.  As we approached its base the sky cleared and we were just in time to witness a spectacular sunset.  Brilliant colors illuminated the remaining wispy clouds and as the last raysof sunlight passed over Uluru it was transformed into a series of red, orange, and pink hues until fading to grey.

The next morning we awoke early to watch sunrise and to visit the cultural center, which was packed with historical information about Uluru. We learned that when whites ‘discovered’ the Rock in the early 20th century they named it Ayers Rock and began marketing it as a tourist destination. Until recently most tourists visited simply to take photos of the sunset and to climb the steep, treacherous trail to the top. Then, fifteen years ago, ownership of the Rock was given back to the indigenous Anangu Aborigines, the name was changed back to the Aboriginal name Uluru, and joint management of the park between the Australian government and the Aborigines began. Now emphasis is placed on Uluru’s cultural significance, so we chose to take two tours and to walk the circumference of the base rather than to disrespect the sacredness of the rock by climbing it.

The Mala walk, our first guided tour, began at 8 a.m. and was led by an Australian ranger. She brought us along a trail at the base of Uluru to a tall, narrow canyon in the Rock, stopping along the way to decipher Aboriginal rock paintings and areas of spiritual importance. This section was known as the Wallaby Dreamtime place – from Aboriginal dream visions about the creation of this land and its resident animals. We continued walking around the base alone after this tour, a three-hour endeavor, and missed hearing the fun informative stories that previously brought the rock to life. So, at 3:30 p.m. we joined a second tour, the Mutitjulu walk to a permanent waterhole near the base. Charlie, our Aboriginal guide explained the dreamtime stories of the rainbow serpent and showed us natural reliefs in the Rock depicting a battle between snakes.  Somebody asked Charlie why the Aborigines still allow Uluru to be climbed when it is against their beliefs. It was a difficult question but he managed to answer simply, replying that Aborigines are guardians of the land thus feel responsible and greatly saddened when somebody gets hurt. Additionally, we had previously been told that Uluru was only conditionally returned to the Aborigines – they initially were required to keep the trail to the top. To further complicate this issue, Aborigines are given a percentage of the profits from the park fees and climbing the Rock is a big draw for tourists. Nevertheless, the Aborigines are patient people who hope to educate visitors on the reasons why they should respect their wishes to not climb Uluru rather than igniting anger by forbidding this to be done. This approach has been effective – slowly but steadily the number of climbers has been decreasing.

Olgas, aka 'Kata Tjata'

Near Uluru are the equally spectacular sight of the Olgas (aka Kata Tjata ), composed of many boulder-like rocks stacked in a row, and Kings Canyon.   It had been raining steadily for the past week so we were rewarded with a green, wild flower & billabong covered landscape – scenery most travelers don’t experience in the outback.  Normally dry streambeds were active with fish, frogs, pollywogs and other animal life. Anyone who says the outback is a just harsh dry place has yet to visit after the rains.   A roadside marker at a stream crossing showed a maximum depth of 2 feet, so we adopted the Aussie attitude of ‘giving it a go’; unfortunately a sputtering motor brought Sunshine to a halt midstream.  When we stepped out to push volunteers were already wading out to help us to the other side. Fifteen minutes later, after drying out the distributor cap we continued on our way to Kings Canyon.

Our subaru struggled to get through muddy, washed out roads

A spectacular red rock gorge including natural features such as clusters of domed outcrops, sheer canyon walls rising over 300 feet, and a lush palm oasis hiding high in the narrow gorge rewarded our efforts. The four-hour Kings Canyon rim walk offered fantastic views of the surrounding area, and half way along the walk the Garden of Eden came into view. The waterfall cascaded to the gorge floor creating a surreal oasis of unbelievable splendor. We enjoyed a cool and refreshing swim in the spring fed pools before walking back to our campsite.

The last leg of our outback road trip was the Mereenie Loop, a 4-wheel drive only dirt track that snakes through Aboriginal land, mountain ranges, plateaus, crevices and chasms, and lots of bush land from Kings Canyon to Alice Springs.  Our subie bumped along the dirt road and we splashed through the occasional wash outs without problem. Then it appeared – the grand daddy of mud holes. Instead of slowing down this time we accelerated through the middle of the bog. A wave of red mud covered the subie and we rapidly began losing traction. “Come on Sunshine, you can make it!” we pleaded as the tires spun, and then somehow gripped enough to crawl out of the mud. Along this route there were numerous stopping points – swimming holes, a meteor crater, scenic vistas, and places of Aboriginal significance. The ochre pits, a place where Aboriginals visited to collect colored soil, were decorated with shades of brown, yellow, red, and white.  By adding water to the soil it could be used as paint for rock walls, caves, tree bark, and for ceremonial body decoration.  At the end of the Mereenie Loop we encountered the Finke River, which had swollen into a 100-yard wide shallow river that separated us from the bitumen on the other side. The choice was simple – either to cross this water or back track three days to another route.  We slowly crept across the river and emerged on the other side, cheering as we conquered our last river crossing. Once again on tar roads, we closed in on the “big city”. A hot shower, clean clothes, and nice dinner awaited.

Waterfall creates 'Garden of Eden' oasis in King's Canyon

Alice Springs is an “outback cosmopolitan” city that offered great restaurants, nightlife, and even a winery. After a dinner of kangaroo, emu, crocodile, and camel we strolled by a pub with a live band and went in for a look. Scotty’s was a locals pub and the eclectic band of guitars, drums, a digeredoo, flute, and numerous other instruments was a favorite entertainment option with the residents. The band got the crowd involved and we were soon volunteered to play in the band. A digeredoo contest for the best male & female player was offered with the prize being the band’s CD, and although Dale deserved the prize I won by default as the only female player.

After the peace & beauty of the outback, trying to sleep the city grated on our nerves.  We laid in our tent at a campground in Alice Springs, but the blasting television from a nearby trailer kept us awake. By 3 a.m. we couldn’t take it any longer; marched over to the trailer we yelled out to the owner to turn down his T.V.   Evidently he was passed out since we heard no response.  We deliberated another option, then snuck around to the back & pulled the plug connecting his trailer to power.  The sudden silence startled us -we quickly crept back to the tent hoping nobody had seen this escapade. That morning when we left the cord was still dangling where we had left it.

Driving through the outback surpassed our expectations, best summed up by Henry Miller’s famous travel quote “One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.”