South Australia

OCS STUD FARM CONSISTS OF AROUND 30 HORSES, 6 GOATS, 2 DOGS, AND A COUPLE DOZEN CATTLE.  And 4 humans of course to control the chaos.  OCS stands for Orange Court Stables and there are no orange trees around so I don't know why Mark (the owner) named it that.  My good friends Cassidy and Dave and I all work for accommodation, food, and wine.  Our boss' name is Thorin Bailey, a late 20s seasoned Australian, who goes by the nickname "Tubs."  Our daily activities range from feeding the horses (hay or hard feeds - buckets with grains/straw/minerals/corn/seeds/etc), landscaping (building a garden/building a chicken coop/weeding/etc), and moving horses and cattle around the paddocks depending on what is planned for them.  OCS is a stud farm in that it has one stallion (stud) who for 3 months out of the year 'serves' mares that come from all around Australia for his sperm.  Apparently he has a 67% win rate with his blood line which is unheard of in the racing industry.  The stud is named Gallo and he has one eye.

 
Yes, one eyeball only; sooooo you can just picture when he serves a mare and his tongue is out and he has his head cocked to one side just one-eyein it.  FIREWORKS I am sure and let me tell you, after working for 2 months on this farm, I am happy to get out with minor scrapes and cuts.  You see, all the horses on the farm are young (under 5 years) and are not broken in and barely know what a human being is.  So even feeding I have come very close to getting kicked or 'double barrelled' (horse stands on front legs and kicks you with his/her back two).  It is starting to get cold here and rain more so feeding at dusk is very dangerous because these horses are going ape shit over the food (they are cold and hungry at night) and going hay wire over the changing weather.  'Electric' is the best word I can describe their demeanor in the last week or so.  But you simply remember your ninja skills and the time you spent working/riding/galloping horses in the Boy Scouts and you manage to get out without any broken ribs.  I always keep these bitches in front of me and maneuver the 4 wheeler/trailer in a way that I can get their feed bins and zoom off so I don't have 7 untrained wild horses surrounding my trailer and fighting to eat out of the buckets.  Heart raced a few times but still never got kicked or bitten...knock on wood.

GELDING DAY FOR 4 OF THE COLTS WAS A VERY INTERESTING EXPERIENCE TO SAY THE LEAST.  This stud farm can only have one stud on it or else there would be 'rooting' (South Australian for sexual intercourse) go on everywhere and the hormones in the colts would conflict with Gallo and the next thing you know you would have Gallo chasing down young 2 year old teenager-type horses and break through thick wooden fences to get to them.  This almost happened on gelding day when the vet came to collect 8 testicles.  We put the 4 colts in Gallo's paddock because it has the most green grass and when you "drop" the horses you want the ground/grass to be nice and padded/fluffy.  Because when they 'drop', THEY DROP.

 

Until you see castration live you don't realize how lucky us boys are!  The 4th horse named Barbie was a NIGHTMARE.  Barbie is a boy and got his name because during a storm last year ran through a wooden fence, an electric fence, and then a barbed wire fence (barbed wire fence = Barbie).  Okay so anyway, Barbie is not liking the lead rope and Tubs is fighting with him to just get him to walk.  Rearing up, kicking, trying to run, Barbie was not a happy camper and was not going to go into the grassy area where his 3 buddies just had their nuts clipped.  I don't blame him.  Barbie proceeds to almost get a side kick on Tubs and Tubs has to let go of lead rope and it snapped whip lashed like a tow rope on a car breaking off suddenly.  So now, Barbie is running around this yard with a 10 foot snake chasing him and at his feet (the lead rope they think is a snake).  We are all trying to corner him but Barbie decides he has had enough and wants to change his name to Fencey.  Just when things couldn't get more crazy, our good buddy Gallo starts running up and down his fence line trying to get to this little punk teenager to attack him.  I look over and truly thought Gallo was going to break through that wooden fence.  He didn't, instead,  This little man ran (Barbie) and attempted to jump over a metal fence/gate that was keeping him in the yard.  He failed miserably.  Barbie, or Gatey I guess lol, poor guy, hit his chest on the gate and fell over it on his head and then the rest of his very heavy body came crashing to the ground.  I remember the farm went silent for a moment and our jaws were all dropped.  Then a quick bit of MAYHEM as Barbie is now getting up to run for the open gate that leads out to the road.  Not good.  Dave and I leaped over this fence as Tubs is screaming "the gate the gate, come around  on him, beat him to that gate!"  Okay, so, you want me to outrun a horse that is bred to win money in racing cups?  Cool, no problem.  Good thing I have been running on the farm and staying fit (yeah right this helped) or else Barbie might have become Roadey haha.  We did beat him to the fence thanks to the fact he was totally rattled from fouling that gate jump so badly.  Crazy quarter horses...all we wanted him to do was WALK forward...that...and...take away his manhood jewels!  Damn, looking back, I think if I were him I would have jumped off of a 3 story building to get away from the veterinarian that day.  Any guy would.  Oh yeah, we fed the balls to Honey and Lily for dinner (the farm dogs - more on them later).

HORSE AND GREYHOUND RACING IS EXTREMELY POPULAR AND A MAJOR PART OF THE AUSTRALIAN CULTURE.  If this ability to bet at the pub was available to us in college in the States we would have gone broke and spent more years to graduate.  You know how you spend money on Buck Hunter and Golden Tee and other bullshit games in bars that you play to pass time?  Well, now imagine you are at the races in Del Mar betting on horses and they are in your bar running for you in a private setting.  Every day, from when the pub opens, to the late evening, you are able to bet in Australia on 3 different types of races; gallops (normal horse racing), trots (harness races with those weird little carts the jockeys sit in), and greyhounds.  It is ridiculous.  Like being in a sportsbook in Vegas.  Beers, betting slips, music, and LIVE results of races from AROUND THE WORLD are available pretty much every 5 to 10 minutes for you to wager on.

PICKING RED WINE GRAPES IS A VERY INTERESTING WAY TO MAKE $17 AN HOUR.  The region I was in is called Mclaren Vale and is the area that a majority of all the shiraz wines come from in Southeast Australia (like that Yellow Tail you drank last week from the super market).  It was gorgeous.  Similar to Napa Valley in California with luscious rolling green hills of vines and gum trees.  Kangaroos would hop around the roads we would take in and out of work.  Wake up time was 5:30am, tea, some toast, and bundle and don't forget your booties cuz its cold out there (still dark out and brisk).  Everyone meets at this oval (sports field and public park) to sign in and figure out which group you are with for that day (usually around 3 groups of 20 to 30 people) and what car to follow.  Picture a bunch of headlights of campervans and silhouettes of humans meandering around on gravel all wishing they were back in their warm beds.  Once again, the Americans are the minority.  Everyone was French.  Now there are two things to note about the French when grape picking.  1; they don't listen and nod their head yes even though have no idea what the contractors are telling them.  2;  They all smoke cigarettes like it is going out of style.  A lot of times I would have to yell at one of them who started picking in my section "post to post!" we Americans would yell and they would say sorry and move on.  You see, you and a partner attack the vine from both sides (some of theses things can be super thick and dense) and you move from post to post so that no section goes unpicked (sections usually about 20 feet long).  The French don't understand this.  we even later tried to figure out what the word 'post' was in French so we could communicate and it actually was the same spelling; 'post.'  So...how in the world DID THEY NOT UNDERSTAND WHEN WE WOULD SAY "POST TO POST"???  Funniest communication breakdown yet on these travels.  It made laugh multiple times and still makes me smile picturing some of their faces when we would tell them 'post to post!'  The other thing is at times I would stand up and look down the rolling green vineyard and all it was all white people harvesting.  Where roughly a 3rd of my life was spent in Southern California I am used to seeing illegal immigrants (usually from Mexico) doing this type of labour, it wasn't the case in Australia.  All of us pickers were caucasians and we actually made decent money for not too intensive of work.  You get $17 an hour but if you work hard and pick at "bucket rate" you can make well more than that (one day I made around $75 in an afternoon where we picked for only 2.5 hours.  The picking is the interesting part.  Some days go slow and some would fly by.  Headphones WERE A MUST.  Layers of clothes would come out throughout the day and some afternoons were hot and clear and crisp and a song like Creedence Clearwater's 'Someday Never Comes' or Slightly Stoopids 'Wiseman' would come on and I would stop what I was doing and just stand up, look out on the winery/vineyard/rolling hills and think to myself; "this is awesome, things could be worse."  Some vines would be dense and thick, some were small and chest height.  Every vine seemed to have its own personality and every bunch of grape felt important and expensive as they were going to go on to produce some of the best vintage wine in the world.  I can tell you that after doing weeks of grape picking (shiraz, cabernet, and merlot), I have a much higher appreciation for the red wine process and will always know I have worked literally 'on the ground level' to help yield some of the most popular wines on this planet.  Thank you Mclaren Vale you were beautiful and will be missed.

THE FARM LIFE LIVING IN GENERAL WAS AWESOME AND WONDERFUL EXPERIENCE.  While I loved being around the horses (been since middle school since I rode every summer in the Scouts), the two farm dogs, Honey and Lily, were my favorite.  One was a blend of dingo and yellow lab and kelpy (Honey Bear) and Lily was a black border collie with touches of white on her fur.  They were the cutest, nicest, sweetest, and well trained dogs I think I have ever had the pleasure of being around.  You could talk to them almost as if they understood what I was saying.  To get them to jump in or out of the trailer on the back of the quad (4 wheeler), you could simply say "in ya get", or "come on" and they would jump in or out.  Sometimes honey would ride in the milk crate basket that was strapped to the front of Honey 4 wheeler.  Honey bear was the queen of the farm and sometimes would bark at the horses to protect me while feeding.  Besides being kicked by a horse and ran over by a car (hurt her shoulder), Honey (and obviously Lily) were always part of my daily chores and, as they would call, "man's best friend" for those two months I spent on the farm.

THE OWNER OF OUR FARM IS ALSO THE 'OUTSIDE GUY' AT A LARGE WINERY IN MCLAREN VALE.  His name was Mark Conroy and was a well traveled and knowledgeable South Australian.  Client base from Asia to America to Europe and named wines after horses and horses after wine kind of guy.  He was always bringing over free ($30 to $50) bottles of red and white wines to keep our fridge stocked.  The slaves (as we called ourselves) on most nights would cook dinner and retire to our "slave quarters" (as I nicknamed) on the north end of the farm house where we could have a fire in the hearth to stay warm, watch movies, and listen to jazz music.  There were only 2 compact discs given to the slaves and they were Jazz After Midnight 1 AND 2.  I absolutely loved those cd's and some nights would fall asleep next to, what I soon called, "The Jazz Machine" on the carpet.  Couldn't tell you one name of one song or one artist...all I can tell you is that Jazz After Midnight was very soothing to the soul...especially after a night of drinking at Jacko's villa.

R. JACKSON (NICKNAMED JACKO) WAS A RETIRED 52 YEAR OLD SOUTH AUSTRALIAN WHO LIVED UP THE STREET FROM US.  A real pleasure to be around this man as he was very intelligent and had so many stories and takes on life that we would just sit there and listen while asking inquisitive questions.  Topics from 9/11, to politics, to finance, to farming, to wines, to beer, to coffee, you name it, Jacko would have a tip on it.  He loved to talk and our eager minds were eager to listen.  Jacko also loved to drink beer and wine.  Loved to put down drinks in a very fun and social way.  Some nights while us slaves had just 'settled in for long winters nap' post dinner and were comfy with our fire and wine, Jacko would show up out of the blue and have us running around to get ready to head to his house to 'try out a new toy.'  Jacko that day had bought a portable (with rollers) kegerator that could hold two different types of kegs of beer and had two taps on top.  ICE COLD.  I think he said it was around $750 but well worth it as it was plug-n-play ready where as if you tried to build one on your own buying all the parts separately it would cost the same amount if not more including the labor you put in.  Sounds good to me.  So now, just when the slaves thought they had it bad with free wine at the farm, we have a local retired ex party animal who wants to feed us free beer.  I forgot to mention the beers were 'you brew it' style where you could mirror the same recipes of major worldwide beers.  For example one night we were on Newcastle while another night we were on Pilsner Urquell.  As my friend on the farm Cassidy would say "SHWEET!"  Some nights Jacko would get us, as a South Australian would say, "pissed as a mute" and we wouldn't remember him taking us back to our house.  Jazz machine, at this point, I LOVE YOU ;)  Jacko also had a pet alpaca, similar to a lama.  Its name was Frodo and he had been hand fed by Jacko and his wife since it was a kid.  This thing would always come and see what I was up to when I would work on Jacko's property (pulling branches to a burn pile, yanking bad olive trees, project work, etc).  A very curious fellow Frodo was.  He would let you know if he like you by putting his camel-like snout up inside your neck.  Frodo and I were buds, I would constantly talk to him while working and when entering his paddock at times would yell out "Frooooooooooooodoooooooooooooooo!" to call him over.  He would always look up at me with the most confused, yet interested look you have ever seen.  Sure enough he would start trotting over to see what I was up to.  Frodo:

ONE NIGHT WE WERE GIVEN A PRIVATE/CUSTOM/EXCLUSIVE TASTING OF THE PIRRAMIMMA WINERY BY MARK (OWNER OF THE FARM).  This was one of the coolest things I have ever had the opportunity to do.  While we have all wine tasted from cellar door to cellar door and it is fun and all, a private showing is WAY DIFFERENT.  Yes, to start, in the cellar door, we had the initial tastings of all the different wines (10 to 15 types) like a normal customer would get..but then...to the factory and to the barrels.  Next thing I know we are climbing ladders and weaving through what felt like a labyrinth of oak barrels.  He made us smell things and feel things and taste things and explained the process all at the same time.  He also had this 'dipstick' type thing that he could stick down into the barrel so that he could get wine out for us.  We were sitting on barrels of wine that have been there for decades, taking pictures, learning a ton of information.

 
The problem is REMEMBERING this information haha.  At one point we were in the laboratory seeing how they add components, make changes, experiment, etc.  It looked like a workplace room for Mr. Wizard.  We were so behind the scenes I felt like we could get in trouble.  We didn't; we were with Mark Conroy, the man of the hour.  He was incredibly funny and witty and at one point told the American women I was with (mom and friends of Cassidy who came to visit her and David) that the reason that wine tastes like an olive is because they put an entire olive tree in the vat with the grapes.  The whole tree lol.  One of them said "really, that is amazing."  My cheeks hurt from laughing so hard that night.  So, just when you think the experience couldn't get any better.  We are leaving the winery and run into a Lionel Ritchie concert that had just got out.  At this point I am singing to these people walking down the road from our motorhome Richie's undisputed best hit single "Dancing On The Ceiling."  It was great.

LAST DAY OF THE FARM WAS THE ONE OF THE MOST INTERESTING WAKEUPS I HAVE EVER HAD.  Besides the above picture which was not a wakeup, but more a 'go to bed' (opened the sliding glass door to go to the bathroom and this LITTLE GUY decided he wanted to cut me off and entered the house inches from my fingers), the experiences get a tad bit more rattling.  After my last night with my friends Sam and Dez at their house for bbq, red wine, and guitar hero, I was loving a nice sleep in on the last day I had on the farm.  Around 10am or so, while loving the fact that Tubs had let the dogs in to come in and sleep with me on my last morning on the farm, I get a loud knock on my door and a "McLeod, we need you brother we have a cow that is birth and we can't get the calf out and we think they are going to die, please come help if you can, quick!"  JUMPED OUT of bed and threw my boots on and ran down to the lower cattle paddock and sure enough there was Big Red's (we nicknamed her) daughter, Little Red, laying on the ground with her baby's snout and two hooves sticking out of her about 18 inches.  Ropes are tied to the calf's hooves and us three men are PULLING AS HARD AS WE CAN like a tug of war from hell.  My job at one point was to wrap a rope around my hand 7 or 8 times and tie it to the leg of the mother and hold the leg up so it would spread the hips to get this little guy out.  This is where I realized that even though a cow may be big and clumsy and slow, THEY ARE STRONG AS ALL HELL.  The mom kicked a couple of times, knocking me over, and later Tubs told me you are lucky you still have some of your fingers.  Um...yeah.  So, this story doesn't have a happy ending.  Us three couldn't even get this calf to even budge.  The emergency vet showed up and started to use this metal tool reverse tourniquet type thing to winch the calf out and press away from the mother but it only got the baby out half way.  The hips are what ended up costing this poor little thing's life.  Couldn't get the calf's hips out so had to go to plan B and sacrifice the calf to hopefully save the mother.  The calf had to be cut in half at the torso, and then its legs cut down the middle to be removed.  When I got back from town that day the trailer on the 4 wheeler had 2 legs and upper torso of a calf already going into rigor mortis.  Slightly disturbing to say the least.  But I guess you have to go back to an ol' saying they say in farming, "when you have livestock, you have deadstock."  I can only hope the mother eventually got up from her calving paralysis or she will have to be put down as well.  Apparently she was way too young to be having children (only 1 year old) and it might have taken her life...that, or she won't ever go near the bull that knocked her up again haha.  Slightly bittersweet ending to what has been an incredible experience and adventure on the farm lands of South Australia.  RCM

Sydney Harbour Bridge & Great Ocean Road

AFTER TRAVELING ALONE FOR 6 MONTHS, IT IS WONDERFUL TO SEE YOUR MOTHER AND FATHER.  My lovely Mom and Dad came to visit me in Australia and also to celebrate their 40th wedding anniversary.  Congrats again you guys!  I waved goodbye to the outstanding 2 weeks spent in Byron Bay and hopped a quick flight to Sydney.  One switch of terminals and there I was to see my folks come walking right out of customs.  God bless world airplane travel at this point right?  So nice to see them.  For one, when you travel alone, the TIME that goes by seems like ages when you don't see people you are close to (i.e. family and friends); secondly, the appreciation for these people (close to you) goes up ten fold due to being by yourself for so long.  You start to look back on the last 20 years of your life and realize how much your parents and siblings have done for you financially, socially, mentally, and emotionally.  Your hugs become longer.  I kiss my mother on the lips more than I used to as a kid.  Your talks with your father become more in depth and meaningful.  YOU PAY ATTENTION TO HOW SPECIAL FAMILY IS.  This career break and choice to travel the world I made is paying dividends when it comes to how I view how special family and friends are to oneself.  Truly awesome and my heart goes out to anyone who has lost someone close to them (i.e. Laura I met from Spain in Byron Bay who was in a car crash with her 2 sisters and both her mother and father died when she was 5).  She was one of the strongest girls I have ever met and pretty much watered my eyes a bit when she told me this story.  We don't know how lucky we are sometimes.  So lucky.

"WE IN SYDNEY BABY!" was one of my favorite quotes I have ever seen on Facebook and I saw it right before New Years Eve 2010 by my friend from Cairns, Annabel.  I always liked the excitement it had to it and wondered if I would have the same excitement when I got to this world renowned international city.  I did.  My folks and I checked in to the Marriot in Circular Quay (thank you Mom and Dad for the timeshare trade!) for 5 nights and were loving every minute of it.  We city explored by day and tried different restaurants and bars by night.  We could see the Sydney Harbour Bridge from our room.  It was such a great setting to catch up and be a family (Sean we wish you were there!) on vacation.  Instead of getting lost and losing a ton of money on public transportation, we paid for this double decker Sydney Tour big red bus thing that let us jump on and off at all the main Sydney attractions; Sydney Opera House, The Rocks, Sydney Harbour Bridge, Kings Cross, Darling Harbour, etc.  While I know you would love to be bored with detailed descriptions of all of these places, I will only focus on one:  The Sydney Harbour Bridge.

CLIMBING THE SYDNEY HARBOUR BRIDGE WAS ONE OF THE MOST EXHILARATING THINGS I HAVE EVER DONE.  First of all you wonder why its costs $198.  $200 bucks to climb a bridge?  Huh?  Its just a bridge isn't it??  Ryan McLeod is here to tell you IT IS NOT JUST A BRIDGE AND IS WORTH EVERY PENNY.  You get there early for your briefing in the morning and start poking around the lobby and see photos of celebrities and random people from all around the world doing all types of things at the top of the bridge (kissing, wedding proposals, famous comedians being funny, etc).  You are soon taken into this small room and asked to strip off everything that could fall off while scaling the structure; wallets, watches, rings, bracelets, earrings, etc.  My father and I chose the 'just underwear underneath' route rather than wearing some bulky pants or shorts under the coveralls they give you.  You are the taken to another room where you are searched with a metal detector to make sure you have not hidden anything in your climbing suit.  Metal detectors?  What the hell did I sign up for here?  We are just going up a few steps to see a view right?  What is going on here Sydney Bridgeclimb people?  You are then taken into another room and given a radio headset that allows you to communicate with your Bridgeclimb leader.  Headsets?  Okay, this is getting intense.  Then you are taken into a room where you are given a practice replica ladder system of what it will be like when getting up to the first stage of the climb.  You hook in to this runner system so if you fall you won't die.  Oh yeah, I forgot, in the first room, you are breathalyzed for alcohol too.  BREATHALYZED!  Why does alcohol matter if I am wired in and can't fall off the bridge?  Lets put it this way, Ryan is getting a bit anxious at this point.

THE FIRST STAGE OF THE BRIDGE CLIMB IS ALMOST MORE SCARY THAN BEING AT THE TOP.  It is that height level I have talked to others about in the same realm of heights (skydived, bungee jumped, cliff jumped, etc) that makes your legs a bit weary.  Weary to say the least when you look down and the metal grating you are walking on is 2 inches thick and HAS HOLES IN IT.  While it is only around a hundred feet up at this point you start getting that shaky real life "oh shit if I fell right here" cringe in your mind that can sometimes make the hair on the back of your neck stand up or make your heart race.  Mine was a small combination of both.  Alright, at this point you might think I am being a sissy...let me remind you people I have jumped out of planes at 14,000 feet, bungee jumped off towers, ran with the bulls, scubadived at night with sharks, and jumped off of bridges at 60 feet into water, etc., but for some reason this climb up this steel structure somehow gets your fear factor to a 7 out of 10.  I think it is the slow ascension or something.  It is an unbelievably awesome fear that I think a lot of people that climb it have no idea would come and hit them.  While you go through these different ladders and steps and then start up the main stairs your Bridgeclimb leader is talking to you about the history of the bridge and give you fun facts and features of the bridge.  I don't really remember much of what she said except for the parts of "this is where 44 people the first year jumped off to kill themselves."  Funny what your mind picks up when you are in a fearful situation.  Dying.  Anyway, my father and I scaled this son of a bitch all the way to the top and it was PRICELESS.  Taking in the 360 degree view of this special international city they call Sydney was something out of a novel that hasn't been written yet (climbing the bridge a pretty new thing).  A few pictures later with the Sydney Opera House in the background it was time for the dreaded CROSSOVER.  You see you go up the bridge on one side and then descend on the other meaning you have to cross over the middle of it and over the freeway with cars and trains ZOOMING ACROSS IT.  Looking down was something you didn't want to do but still did anyway.  My God it was scary as all hell but at the same time, a good scary.  A very good scary.  I'll put it this way, the beer at lunch that day seemed to go down a bit faster and smoother than it would on any other day.  What a once in a lifetime, highly recommended.

THE NEXT BEST HIGHLIGHT OF THIS HOLIDAY WAS DRIVING THE GREAT OCEAN ROAD.  We rented a car in Melbourne and headed south to Geelong where we stopped in at a I center, or Information Center.  These are abundant in Australia and much respect to the Australian government on their efficient tourism help and great road signage.  I don't think we ever got lost once and we drover over 1000km.  Exceptional.  Mind you I did run the rental car over a curb within the first two minutes of driving the car out of the lot (spatial dimensions off a bit when you are driving on the right side of the car) and almost killed a biker in the CBD (Central Business District) on the way to our hotel.  Anyway, back to the Great Ocean Road.  THIS THING WAS SPECIAL.  Can't put my finger on it but it has to do with the changes of scenery you go through during your trek.  Rolling green cliffs (like the Oregon Coast) to smaller foliage and towns (like Malibu, CA), to huge orange and red and yellow cliffs that enormous (like something I have never scene).  While the 12 apostles were cool and all, the Bay of Martyrs and the Bay of Islands were WAY better.  Underlooked, undertraveled, underestimated, you name it.  At a couple of those stops we were the only people on the lookout point.  Sun was setting and hitting these Halloween-colored cliffsides that were HUGE and we were the only ones around to see it.  Awesome, simply awesome.  We stayed in a couple of small towns on the road (Apollo Bay and Woornambool) and found ourselves in places that you would only picture in a Hemingway novel.  Here is the best way I can some up the Great Ocean Road and why it was so spectacular...a photo I took that was featured as the photo of the day on a large photography website; another great adventure and part of the world, RCM:

Byron Bay

JUST HALFWAY THROUGH MY 2 MONTH HOLIDAY I FIND MYSELF again being let out of a motor vehicle (shuttle bus in this case) in a city where I have never been and know no one.  All I know is the voice(s) at reception at the Backpackers Inn in Byron Bay, New South Wales that I told was coming.  I can remember walking down the street in the dark and feeling a comforting cold gust of wind hit my face and know that I was in a good place, good city, good part of the world.  Queensland is, for now, history.  I remember seeing a Backpackers Inn flyer in my reception in Cairns (those really slow mornings where I would wander around reception and read pretty much every flyer and brochure we sold).  It was the only place I knew to stay in Byron Bay besides what I could find on the internet.  But who wants to have to use the internet?!  Internet-less travel is growing on me.  Anyhoo, due to them and us being friendly hostels and having each other's flyers in each other's reception, they were able to give me a 4 bed share with a balcony for $20 a night.  I paid for 2 weeks immediately upon hearing the great news that I was basically getting my accommodation for 50% off.

 
YOU HEAR A TON ABOUT HOW GREAT BYRON BAY IS BEFORE YOU GET THERE.  Everyone seems to always say "Oh my god I love Byron Bay I am trying to get back there,"...or..."Byron is AMAZING,"...or..."Holy shit, dude, MAKE SURE you make it Byron Bay and go to Nimbin."  Let me be the first to tell you that the all the hype lives up to itself and this little beach town is cool as all hell.  While being from one of the best beach towns in America and living there for 4 years (miss you San Diego friends!), you wonder what could make this particular surf town so cool.  I can't really put my finger on it but I what I can tell you is that nights would go for example, from a calm and collective dinner at a bar to dancing on the same tables (you ate on) hours later to some internationally known song classics with 2 Spanish Girls and an Italian girl

and many pictures are being taken.  The night spirals back to your accommodation that has hammocks and direct 24 hour private beach access to the Pacific ocean.  Tons of fires at night with other travelers and guys and girls of all ages from all around the world.  The evenings were always ABUZZ around 6 or 7pm as people would start showering in the communal showers, drinking, getting dinner out of the way, etc.  We would party and socialize at Backpackers Inn until 10:30pm which was quiet time and then everyone would head out to go dancing.  While this didn't happen every night it did seem to happen a lot :)  I changed crews of people a few times during that two weeks.  First it was the English, then it morphed into the Spanish...then it combined into the Dutch/French/Canadian/American group.  Days were filled with multiple beach visits, swimming, napping, reading, surfing, and writing.   I didn't really have any touristy things to do while in Byron...the only two things that I put on the must do list were; going to Nimbin to buy souvenirs; go up to the lighthouse to watch the sunrise (thank you Selina Gray).  I am thankful to say I was able to check both these off the list with much pleasure.

NIMBIN IS A LAUGHABLE STREET IN THE MIDDLE OF NOTHING THAT IS TRAPPED IN THE 1970S.  The best way I describe it to people is "a township (street basically) that is stuck in the 'drum circle' stage of government upheaval and extremely passionate about the legalization of marijuana."  One sees Nimbin in less than 2 hours and you are ready to leave.  The street is lined with strange local people that look like muts of societal flaws and mishaps yet have a small wink of happiness in themselves.  LOL, now that I think about it they are very similar to the nialists, or Germans, in the movie The Big Lebowski that tell The Dude that they "belieevs in nussing Lebowski, nussing!"  I bought some Nimbin souvenirs on the streets and in these small little shops.  Bought a patch for my backpack, a postcard with a smiley face on it saying some nonsense about Nimbin or something, and some other items I can't remember...Anyway,  Nimbin is a must do if you are ever in northern New South Wales.  Some days I can just randomly think about the fact that Nimbin actually exists on this earth and it will make me laugh out loud.  It has made me laugh twice while writing this paragraph.  After Nimbin, our group (English squad at this point) went to a waterfall and swimming hole to cool off and take a dip.  It was refreshing, cold, crisp, and needed.

GOING TO THE LIGHTHOUSE AND THE MOST EASTERLY POINT OF AUSTRALIA at 5am and watching the sunrise was an incredible morning/experience.  Rather than attempting to get up at 4am and hike 2 hours up a decently large hill/point I opted to stay up all night after going out to the pubs and wrote til 5am and had a taxi driver launch me up there in the dark quiet hours of 4:30am.  I packed my Nikon D5000 DSLR, my tripod, a polarized lens filter, some cookies and crackers, my mp3 player/headphones, and a bag of wine (the good shiraz cabernet's come in bags over here :) ).  I hiked up to the lighthouse from where the taxi dropped me off (as far as a car could go up at that hour) and was very entranced by the overwhelming view down to the wave crashing cliffs of the Pacific.  Time to go to work as a travel photographer; I hiked around side trails along the cliffs edge under the moonlight reflecting off the top layer of the ocean.  I found a nice lower spot a bit down from the lighthouse to setup my camera on the tripod.

 
I set to take a photo every 10 seconds for an hour from 5am to 6am; a timelapse of 360 separate shots of the sun rising facing east off the horizon.  This is the stuff I live for friends and family.   So I am set for the shot with my Nikon so I ventured down a bit to use relieve myself of the many beers I drank with my good Spanish girlfriends that night.  On the way back up I came up over this hills railing and right in front of my face about 10 feet away from me is a silhouette of a pagan symbol that has appeared in the sky and I rub my eyes to see if what I am seeing is real or not.  Staring and staring this black strange figure of the night the outline begins to move.  I begin to shape out a head a ears and horns of this image and realize it is alive.  Being the only one around miles in any direction, my new only friend was this image in front of me; a mountain billy goat.  He climbed all the way up the cliff to come see what I was up to and for about, no kidding, 10 minutes we stood and stared at each other without moving or breathing.  It was of my favorite memories thus far in my travels and while I felt small on this earth at that moment, the billy goat seemed to reassure me that even in the loneliest spots of this magnificent globe, a friendly energy is always right around the corner.  There I was on the most easternly point of Australia as our Sun rises up to warm my face in the cool coastal morning.  I just sat back, listened to music, and had some red wine with crackers periodically as our star peeked up over the end of the world.  Below you can see in the distance the sleepiness of a quiet tanker headed south.  The mental transcending going on at that point was indescribable.  I am so glad I made the decision to travel the other side of the world for a bit.  Great adventure, RCM

"Don't Forget to PULL..."

I JUST LEFT RAINBOW BEACH IN A REDONE TOYOTA CRUISER SHUTTLE VAN with the owners of the skydive tandem locations in Rainbow Beach and Coolum on the Sunshine Coast.  One of their dad's has ran and owns the longest/largest/#1 skydive school in Australia.  Guess where I am going?  To this school in the middle of nowhere, called Ramblers, to do my first 3 'Introductory' Course Skydives.  It is funny how the wind blows you around as a traveler.  I started to itch to leave Rainbow; almost booked a Greyhound to Byron Bay, almost went north to sail the Whitsunday Islands, almost went back onto Fraser Island for a free trip (since our weather was so bad).  I then started researching getting certified in something that I could do as I travel the world.  Scuba Diving box already ticked.  Surfing box ticked (at least learning how to do it, but I can see how it takes years of getting pounded by Mother to really 'tick' that box).  I have two weeks to burn before my parents land in Sydney.  What should I do?  SKYDIVING!.  Remembering back to Interlaken Switzerland 7 years ago with my good bloke Brian Hayden and how awesome jumping out of plane in the Swiss Alps (although back then I was afraid of heights) was and how recently over the Great Barrier Reef I was excited and stoked for the jump and loved the tranquility of when the canopy opened, I realized that I want to be able to do this on my own wherever I go in the world.

I START RESEARCHING COMPANIES AND TALKING TO PEOPLE AND SENDING EMAILS.  Long story short, the guy I talked to at Ramblers over the phone a few days ago randomly showed up in the PeterPans (travel agent adjacent to hostel) in Rainbow Beach where I was on the internet (I overheard him talking to Kate about the new ownership, etc).  Asked if they do instruction and at that moment we realized we just talked two days ago and re-affirmed that he was a Sundevil from ASU and I was Husky from UW.  Marius proceeds to Facebook me that the owners will be in Rainbow Beach tomorrow and would give me a ride to Ramblers in Toogoolawah and put me up with free accommodation in the bunkhouse and to call Susie.  I can't understand how things go your way so well sometimes.  Gotta love it.  Susie was awesome and not only said they would pick me up and drive me hours south with them in their killer 'busser' (converted into a camper) but also that they would find me a way onward south to get to Byron Bay or farther if need be.  Apparently there are 3 birthdays of good skydive culture friends of theirs this weekend and a lot of 'jump heads' will be their and I will be able to party with some kickass people and see some very cool jumps.  As I type this I am in the Coolum Beach Bowling Club (lawn bowling for old farts...what a BEEHIVE of activity these places are) drinking beer and have to be back to the skydive shop by 6pm so we can continue south to Toogoolawah.  What an adventure this is going to be...

TOOGOOLAWAH, OR 'TOOGS,' ENDED UP BEING A TINY TOWN in the middle of green farmlands with a population of nothing.  2 pubs, 1 post office-type place.  As promised I was given a ride by Susie and her husband from Rainbow Beach.  They were awesome and answered tons of questions I had.  They even put me up in their home for that first night because it was too late to head to Toogs that late.  Such nice people Australians are.  Driving through the countryside it was UNBELIEVABLE the evidence of the damage of the Queensland floods.  Trees and rivers looked like a muddy bathtub that was filled to the brim.  Foliage flattened, houses flooded, people losing everything.  It was sad to see and again, I was so thankful to be stranded in Rainbow Beach during that time.  We pulled in to this rickety old farm house looking place called RAMBLERS.  Ramblers is the longest running drop zone for skydiving instruction in the entire country of Australia.  Right away I realized I had come to the right place.  30+ years of experience to show me how to jump out of planes by myself.  I couldn't have been more excited, nervous, crazy, and lucky all at the same time.  See if you can see the plane in the middle of this picture below...that is what you jump out of...

RATHER THAN BORING YOU AGAIN ON WHAT SKYDIVING IS LIKE, I will briefly try and paint a picture of the AFF (Accelerated Free Fall Course) Stage 1, 2, & 3 that I paid $1035 for entails.  All jumps are from 14,000 feet and video taped to help teach you skills.  You have classroom time before each jump with a guy (my teacher was Bengy) who has jumped out of planes somewhere around 10,000 times.  Yes, 10,000 times.  Hard to believe.  Glad this guy's with me.  Jump 1 is tandem where basically you pull a fake handle (thing that deploys your parachute) at 5,000 feet but the instructor actually pulls it.  Then, you are to look up at the canopy and count to 6 (one thousand one...one thousand two...etc) as you look for MALFUNCTIONS.  The classroom portion of learning about malfunctions is just as scary as the jump.  Malfunctions can be a twisted line, a streamer, half deployed canopy, no slider coming down to you, 2nd parachute deployed with your main chute, etc.  Watching the videos of these problems in the classroom before these jumps is absolutely terrifying.  Jump 2 is BY YOURSELF with a couple of instructors around you that help you exit the plane and make sure you know where your handle is so you can deploy while traveling 120 MPH six thousand feet from the ground.  FRIGHTENING to say the least.  Jump 3 is the same thing but you actually disconnect from the instructors and start learning to 'turn' during freefall and how to perfect your feet and arms so you are in control of your fall.  Crazy friends and family, it was absolutely crazy.  It was absolutely worth every penny I spent.  Tandem skydiving is fun and games but when you are in charge of pulling your own chute and landing in a drop zone that looks like the size of your thumbnail from that high up, you reiterate to yourself that you are alive and you are surviving.  Landing is more dangerous than the actual jump.  Finding the DZ (drop zone) after your chute catches air is a bit nerve racking as every field looks the same from 5,000 feet.  You remember your training and look for landmarks (thank you sewage station) that guide you to where you will be landing yourself back on to the Earth.  Wind, trees, powerlines, human error are all part of the fun when landing in skydiving and let me tell you had a I not army rolled on my 2nd landing by myself I would have really hurt my ankle and/or knees pretty bad.  Ground can seem to rush up on you faster than you think.

THE WEEKEND WAS A BLAST BECAUSE THERE WERE THREE 30 YEAR OLD BIRTHDAY PARTIES.  Skydivers from all over Australia were camping at Ramblers that weekend and some of the craziest shit I have ever seen that can be done in the sky I saw.  These guys have between 5,000 and 10,000 jumps and are basically, as one of them described to me, "fighter planes flying in synchronization towards the earth."  Sure enough, when these guys would land they would load the best video of themselves on this huge big screen and everyone would watch it.  Picture water aerobics in the sky and some of the leaders were falling BACKWARDS while the students (so to say) were following the teacher's every movement and mirroring everything they did.  It actually did look like fighter planes in a dog fight.  It was one of the coolest things I have seen on my travels yet.  One of the guys told me that these guys are trying things that no one in the world has done yet and basically making a new high speed sport in the sky.  Human fighter jets...okay, cool, got it.  The weekend was filled with a ton of free beer (people buy a case for everyone for certain milestones in skydiving - i.e. I bought one for my first non tandem skydive) and

 
costumes, and foosball, and lots of friend making and great conversation.  There was only one other student there with me that weekend, a 16 year old kid named Adam.  Adam and I stayed in the bunkhouse together and became good friends; talking about our jumps after they would happen.  Adam did the 9 stages of AFF (costs $2800) and told me he flipped burgers for one year to save the money to do this.  He is going to be a badass back at high school this year I told him.  Adam and his mother (who came out to get him) were nice enough to let me hitch a ride with them to the western suburbs of Brisbane and from there I hopped a train to the city center to hop a bus to Byron Bay.  Looking back, had the rains never came to Queensland, I would have never researched skydiving school, would have never met Susie, would have never gone to Ramblers, and most importantly; would have never surpassed a personal milestone of life that not many people in the world will ever even think of doing.  Great adventure, RCM.