The Southern Crux

I live in one of the greatest cities on the planet. I know this because I recently attended a concert the other night. It was Amadou & Mariam an African rock band of sorts from Mali. Let's just say I rely heavily on my friends to hear about things like this. They are inevitably more cultured than I am. But attending this world music celebration lead to one conclusion. My education is on going. For when I can't go out in the world, my city brings the world to me.

I remember a stressed out boy clamoring to get his life in order in New York a few days before he was about to embark on a long journey. He had no idea what to expect or grasped the scope of what he was about to do. That boy no longer exists. What stands in his place is the slightly older version who's mind is cluttered to its deepest reaches with memories that span the entire South Pacific.

And that is precisely where this trip will live for the rest of my life. Slowly over time certain details will be pushed out to make room for new ones. The picture as a whole will slowly fade. Eventually, Oceania will seem as distant as it actually is. But that is the funny thing about that part of the world. It takes so long to get to and from there you actually lose and gain a day. When you watch the sun rise twice on the same day you know you have gone a fair way. It's as real as time travel gets in our age and it is easy to forget that there is this whole other vibrant world existing in this other time frame-a place so unique and beautiful it can only exist in this far off place. But the truth is it will always be there.

The wind will continue to blow atop The Tongariro Crossing and the sun will continue to rise on Mt. Cook. Rainbows will continue to form high in the Kepler Mountains for the lucky few, and it will most certainly still rain on the Milford Track. The Dart Glacier will still be there waiting to be discovered by those brave enough to traverse the Cascade Saddle. Red Star will continue to serve the best burgers on earth and in Queenstown jazz musicians will still play every night down by the water. Kiwis will continue to pick up hitch hikers and people will kayak the Abel Tasman. Conversations will be had around stoves in back country huts. People will risk their lives everyday in extreme sports but will continue to be cleansed by the wilderness.

Shows will continue to go on at the Sydney Opera House and sails will grace the harbor. Things will still get lost on the beach at Bondi. People will still get stuck in Byron Bay and surfers will continue to catch the best wave in Noosa. Countless adventures will still be had in Fraser Island and the stars will shine down on "Silent Night" in the Whitsundays for many days to come. The Great Barrier Reef will continue to reveal its secrets and people will have BBQ's in Cairns. Someone is stealing sugar cane in Cape Tribulation. The sun will rise and set on Ayers Rock and somewhere Rachel has a song to reflect it. Melbourne will continue to charm and inevitably..in some bar "Kings of Leon" is still playing. The Aussies will continue to produce the greatest peanut butter on earth.

Fijian sunsets will still continue to stop everyone in their tracks. People will come and go from Octopus Resort. Volleyball games will be played and Kava ceremonies will be performed. Some where on that reef that moray eel is watching out. The Fijian kids will still marvel at western technology and dolphins will still continue to come every time Bombali wins a rugby match.

People will meet and become friends, lovers, and acquaintances. Lives will be transformed.

And even though I won't be able to see it. The Southern Cross will continue to rise and set each night. Shining its directional light on whoever eyes are wide-eyed enough to search for it.

And as for me, my southern cross, my crux- has happily reveled itself. It wasn't a point on my journey but the product of my journey. For each experience you encounter you take a little bit of something with you. I am the sum of all the people I met and all the places I have seen. The knowledge and perspective gained on such a venture is priceless enough, and what I do now with this transformed man is the pivotal point. I am the luckiest person alive. I start again with a cleaned slate. Where I go from here is my southern cross.

I am a book with many pages still to be written. I invite you to come read with me.

-Steven

Gregory and Me

If you were to attempt to unravel all the threads of your life and see all the happenstance decisions that lead you to a certain place you would probably go stark raving mad with “what if” possibilities. Luckily life works all that out for you and you don’t have to think about it too much. All you need to do is set the events in motion by a single act. The beauty is most of the time you don’t know you are setting anything in motion. You just go about your life and hope that the decisions you make don’t land you in jail or as the next guest on Jerry Springer.

Take the Kiwi owner of Octopus Resort for example. My stay at Octopus was greatly colored by this man. In his late forties (I would guess), recently divorced, and filled to the brim with money, Nick was the embodiment of a midlife crisis playboy. With thirteen properties his presence at the resort was seldom, but to our luck, he was spending the next three weeks “hanging out” there. When you just own and not manage what better way to see how your property is operating than by using the facilities. But really I think he had nothing better to do and loved to entertain people. For example upon hearing that a large group of us were going to dive the same dive, he arranged another boat to join us and then take all of us to a secluded beach afterward for a little post dive soiree. Just because he thought it would be fun. He even had his people put together a cooler full of drinks. Or the time that I actually got myself to sit down next to the pool to enjoy a bit of the sun. I made some stupid sarcastic comment about how much life there sucks and it could be all that much better if I was doing the same thing but with a Margarita in my hand. Rick-who was sunbathing behind me-immediately sprang to life and said, “Coming right up!”. A few minutes later my universe was complete with Margarita in hand, and I didn’t even have to move. "Compliments of Nick" or that was at least what the waiter said. Now that’s a great example of setting a set of events into motion.

Each decision you make starts a snowball rolling and it would take a super computer to track them all. Who has time to think about all that when the next sand volley game against the Fijians is about to start and you need to get your serve on? All kidding aside decision making was a bit hard at Octopus. This was mainly due to the wonderful list of activities that you could sign up for each day. I ended up diving a total five dives over the course of five days. Luckily they have three chances to do so a day so you could work around other activities. So each day was centered around a dive, some beach time, some snorkeling, an afternoon activity, dinner and then a night activity. One morning we walked to the Fijian Village nearby and talked to the villagers and took photos of all the kids. Another day I went line fishing off one of the boats, and actually caught six different fish. The kitchen the next day cooked one of them up for me for lunch. There was also a sunset boat cruise. But it was the night events that really made the day. We had a movie night next to the pool. A traditional Fijian song and dance night, hermit crab racing (of which my two crabs seemed to disappear), a sand volleyball game where you got a free shot every time you did something good, and a game/bonfire night where I stupidly entered a game where you had to eat a whole candy bar and chuck down an entire beer before the other team does. I turned white and nearly puked. And most importantly sundown was always an activity to stop for no matter what. Obviously then what activities you do then effects who you hang out with. (Or in this case bond with after nearly puking)

Like an extended trip as a whole, Octopus Resort was a microcosm of all the missed opportunities to get to know someone and a concentrated example of the dynamics of how people end up hanging out together in happenstance circumstances. Since visitors to the island came only by the resort boat daily, Octopus had a strange flux of people coming and going. One day one person would be gone replaced by another person and sometimes a person would be there a couple of days before an opportunity to notice them arrived. Almost from the begging boat ride I had groups to hang out with and we were all staying the exact amount of time. This was the three British girls-Jo, Katie and Kirran and the three Montana boys-Jonathon, Dan & Jackson. We came on the same boat and in the end left on the same boat. Then there was Katie & Sam from Britain and Stephan from Germany. We met because one day I happened to take a swim in the pool and they were having a hard time doing that squeeze thing with your hands that makes a stream of water shoot out of your clasped hands. (don't ask). Then there was Ingrid and Louise both from the UK. We met on our walk over to the village. We bonded over pigs, taking pictures of little kids, snorkeling, and generally making fun of other people. I also met Josina from Australia on that same walk. She and I would dive one of our best dives together where we saw a white tipped reef shark and a giant moray eel. I met Alina from Minnesota because I had walked into the office and over heard she was American. She was later influential in my decision to go to the Rugby game and in the end would be my travel partner on the plane back to the States. As happenstance as these meetings may be depending on whether I made a decision to go here or there, I can't help but think that in the end they are not so much random. I was to stay at Octopus Resort five nights and out of all the people I became close to not a single one of them was staying any longer than I was. To stay any longer would have overstayed the experience, to leave on the downward spiral and not on top. This was influential in my decision to come home when I did. It was a wonderful way to end-knowing that it was time to go. Maybe I am just sentimental but it was as if we were all meant to gather at this place at this time. And knowing that some of us not only were leaving at the same time but on the same plane made it easier to leave. Some decisions as it were are obviously made for you.

All things said, it wouldn't be proper to end this trip with out mentioning one more thing. That is the single handed act that started the chain of events that led to my adventures in both the South Pacific and many other wonderful places. It started on a cool spring day in 2001 when I walked into an REI in Oakbrook, IL with my friend Kate and purchased my Gregory backpack. For nearly nine years that pack has taken me to far off places and it is the single greatest reason why I am able to travel in the manor that I do. I spent $300 dollars on this purchase but what it has afforded me is without price. God had I only known back then the places "Gregory" would take me and the perspective I would gain. However, no matter how many people I would meet along the way, in the end it always came down to my pack and me.

What if I hadn't walked into the REI store that day? Doesn't matter. I did. And my life is rich for it. Where it will take me again is unknown, but it most certainly will. Life has a way of working that out and all you have to do is make the decision to start the chain of events.

Whether you are aware of it or not.

A Backpackers Credo

Sometimes when you travel you are given a great gift. These gifts are rare and usually last only but a moment. But once you experience one you realise why you travel in the first place. It usually involves the right combination of timing mixed with a bit of spontaneity, the right people, some far off place, and one last element that only the world can afford to show you once in a great while. All of these elements play in front of you, like a symphony, for you to appreciate. You know that moment, somehow from deep inside, as perfection. I wouldn't have known such a thing existed had it not been for Octopus Resort on the small Fiji Island of Maya.

Octopus Resort itself was in fact a gift. This was because I wasn't supposed to go there at all. Fiji was never on my itinerary, but as all travelers should do, I had left my heart open to what came my way. The best things in life are often not planned. Twice was Octopus Resort recommended to me by two totally different groups of people at two totally different times on my journey. Not just recommended but raved. I knew if I were to go to Fiji this was the only place that I would spend my time. When I think back it was almost as if I was led there. So I worked it out and I came.

Octopus is paradise. I know that word means many different things to many different people. But for the rest of my life I now have an actual mental picture for what paradise is. For me it will always be this little secluded resort next to a beach on the west side of Maya Island in the middle of the south pacific. It reeked of paradise. I don't know if it was the traditional Bula band that welcomed us as we approached the beach for the first time. Maybe it was the fact that it felt so secluded -1.5 hours by boat to get there. Or maybe it was the teal blue and green color of the water and the giant choral reef teaming with life underneath it just a few feet off the beach. It could have been the 26 dive sites at our disposal, or the pool, or the three fantastic meals a day served in a sand floored outdoor dining room. The sunsets, the hammocks, the palm trees, the sand volleyball court, or a bar that didn't close until we told it to all played a hand. It could have been its association with the local Fijian village and its fantastic Fijian people as it's employees. It could have been all the wonderful activities and programs at our disposal and the nightly kava drinking ceremony and music. It could have been the fact that nothing else was on this island but this place and a handful of small Fijian villages. Or that your time there was yours to do what you wish of it. It might have been all the other soles that had wondered upon this place at the same time. But I think it was paradise because it afforded me the perfect travel moment.

It happened on my fourth day. The second to my last and on an activity I wasn't supposed to do. I had in mind that it would be good for me to sit still on the beach for a day as I had filled the previous three days with activities. But as our relationship grew to the native people of the island the longer we stayed, the more compelling they were to me. So when we were invited to a Rugby match between the local villages I was easily persuaded. Its seems, as it were, I can't sit still when I am out in the world. So we headed out by rickety old wooden boat to a smaller island just south of ours. There we sat on the grass and I watched in spectacle the art of Rugby contrasted by the simple Fijian life. The end goals were made of bamboo and the players often had to share jerseys when rotated. There were no grand stands, only the grass to sit on. The announcer sat behind us with a small wooden table and a megaphone. Kids played their own games off to the side. It was the marvel of simplicity. The rugby team associated with the village next to Octopus was named Bomballi. We cheered them on and eventually they won and many happy moments were shared between my new found Fijian friends.

The day had wained and the sun was readily approaching its hiding place beyond the horizon. There was a small sand bar between the two islands and it was here that we loaded our old boat for the journey back. The players had paraded with us down the beach, laughing and celebrating the win. Some of them came back with us on the boat and the others lined up on the sand bar to await their own boat. When I climbed aboard I immediately climbed to the roof for the journey back yelling to the players on the sand bar "Go Bomballi". They would yell "Bula!" back. They had no idea who I was really. I was just a visitor to their place and yet for a them I was one of them. Fijians have an openness that I have never experienced before. It's the kind of connectedness that only comes from living in such a simple and beautiful place. They are as much connected to their environment as the environment is connected to them. They were very much a big part of what made Fiji beautiful. A few of them sat on top of the boat with me as we motored our way over the glass of the ocean. A smaller open topped boat chased us from the side. I sat atop the bow flying over the water with the green of the island to my right and the reddish hues of the setting sun to my left. Our bodies were crashing hard into the wind. The light was the kind of light that only comes from the waining waves of the setting sun. It was a light that makes everything come alive. One of the Fijian players behind me commented that their team name- "Bomballi" -means Dolphin, and that every time they win they see dolphins. What struck me about that comment was how matter affectedly he said it. As almost to say "of course we see dolphin every time we win." If I were in any ordinary place, and someone said that to me I would fall into the cynicism of the non romantic. Ya right. But this was an extraordinary place full of romantics. No more than a few long moments later the largest pod of dolphins I had ever seen surfaced from deep below and proceeded to play, jump, and chase our two tiny craft. Some getting so close that the Fijian children in the open topped boat were able to reach down and touch them, laughing as if this was the most natural thing on earth. I don't know which prompted the other to come. The Fijians or the dolphins. But there was a connection there like no other, an understanding that comes from only accepting the way things happen.

I took it all in with one look around me. This place is magical. This moment is a gift. The backpackers credo: Whatever happens-happens. You are in the right place at the right time. Otherwise you wouldn't be there. It's one thing to understand this statement but another to fully except it. I have no pictures or video of this moment. Just the memory and feeling etched into me that will last longer than any picture.

When a man who lives in a place that is so far removed from natural things-moments like these seem like the greatest miracles on earth. Maybe they are, but maybe that is just how the world works when left alone. And we have just all forgotten that.

Fiji to a Tee

I knew Fiji would be great. I knew it from the moment I stepped off the plane, felt that first rush of humid tropical air, and heard the Fiji welcome band play as I stepped through customs. It had to be good. Fiji would be what it is, and that excepting attitude comes only from the tediousness of traveling. It is a state of mind that comes with the most practiced traveler. Fiji for me was an unplanned add-on so there would be no subtracting from my experience. The fact that I found myself standing in the Nadi Airport in Fiji was already a plus. That is until I stepped onto the Smugglers Cove Golf course.

Don't get me wrong. The fact that I played a game of golf next to the ocean in Fiji is not a negative at all. In fact, I rather enjoyed my little adventure. But quite honestly..it was probably the worse golf course I have ever seen. But that is Fiji for you. It's is a place where the people make the best of what they have right down to their ritual "Bula!" (hello in Fijian). It was free through the resort hostel I was staying at in Nadi and I had a day to kill before I was to be picked up to go to Maya Island to spend my last days at a resort. So why not? And besides, I got to walk down the beach with my golf clubs to get to the course. I don't think I have ever done that before.

When I was younger my father taught me everything I know about golf. He isn't the greatest of players (neither am I), but one thing he did teach me is that golf is a game that shouldn't be taken too seriously and its the togetherness of playing it that counts. After experiencing Smugglers Cove Golf Course he couldn't be more right.

Smugglers Cove Golf Course was home to some pro Fijian golfer (who's name escapes me) so... it couldn't be that bad?

Right?

My first clue should have been the fact that it was included with my stay. All I had to do was rent some clubs from the hostel and I was on my way.

The second clue should have been the fact that they didn't take reservations for tee times.

The third should have been the fact that when I showed up at the "club house" (which by the way was nothing more than a garage with a pool table) it had looked as though tumble weeds had moved in. I had the entire golf course to myself with the exception of a lone Fiji man who was sat cross- legged line fishing in the water hazard on hole #3.

But hey... I was going to play golf next to the ocean. I bought five balls and told myself that once I loose all five I am done. I set off toward a large tree that the lady in the club house pointed out was the beginning of the first hole. What lay before me was a comedy of errors.

The fairways were littered with dirt paths, and the greens were thick enough to mow. The tee boxes were marked with painted coconuts. On hole #2 I actually lost two balls no more than a few feet from edge of the tee-off boxes because the rough was so thick it swallowed anything that dared to enter it. After helplessly searching for twenty minutes on completion of hole #3, I surpassed hole #4 because the course was so haphazardly laid out I couldn't even find it-even with the map. One time I played the green for hole #7 thinking it was the green for hole #6. I literally got my foot stuck in the mud while walking down one of the fairways. Hole #7's tee box was lovingly decorated with an old rusting refrigerator laying on its side. It was quite beautiful. And holes #8 & #9 I had the added bonus of dodging low flying aircraft as they were taking off and landing at the Nadi Airport. My favorite Hole was #11 when upon finally discovering where it was located (nowhere near hole #10), I was pleased to discover a lovely Fijian threesome (who had nothing to do with golf-mind you ) that had decided to enjoy this great land of theirs and have a blanket picnic directly on the tee box. When I approached they were not only startled to see another human being, but annoyed at the fact that I had interrupted their tranquil setting. They watched me tee off as if they had never seen a man hit a ball with a stick before. My fifth ball landed in the ocean on that drive and I decided to call it a game.

The Lady at the club house was all smiles upon my return. "How was your game"?

"Great!". I lied.

But can you blame me? She was so happy and proud that I was just there. I did play golf near the ocean.

That evening (after an amazing sunset) my hotel had a traditional Fiji fire dance show. In the course of dancing afterward I met a couple of Fijian women. They invited me into their circle and we spent the rest of the night talking and laughing over many bottles of Fijian beer. They were amazingly honest about everything. They told me all about the recent military coup that ceased the government and how the Fijian dollar just lost 20% percent of its value. And how boring it was living there sometimes. But they were happy and proud to share what it was to be Fijian with me. It struck me. Fijian's may not have many fancy things that our first world society affords us-things like a stable government or a decent golf course. But they do have something which is far more valuable. State of mind. Like my recent attitude toward arriving in this country they are aware that they have what they have and that makes them happy. Anything more is just a plus.

We closed the bar down and continued to laugh and drink into the night.

I knew I was going to love this place.

MY GOD..It's Paradise

Hello All-

Steve is subconsciously feeling bad because he has posted nothing about Fiji. That is because he is on a small island in the middle of the South Pacific and it is absolute paradise. He is so remote that this is costing him 12 dollars a half hour. So this is to say BULA! (hello in Fiji) and that he won't be writing any more posts until he gets home. And the most he has to figure out is which dive site to dive and what drink to have on the beach. My God he has never been to a more beautiful place...

Until America-
-Steve's Conscience

So long Australia..Take Care...

...and hello Fiji!

It's Mel (BIN) you idiot....

The Golden days of my tenure in Australia are upon me and I have spent them on a road trip from Sydney to Melbourne. This is called the Boomerang Coast and the majority of what everyone thinks Australia is-resides here. Melbourne itself is a delightful little city. It has a wonderful network of back alley bars and restaurants that keeps even the most wildest of souls entertained. Situated at the very bottom of Australia it had a small hint of Autumn in the air. Victoria (the state in which it resides) probably has the most severe seasons. It was a reminder that summer is over and my trip is nearing an end. In my travels I have seen the chill of spring, the ending heat of summer and now the dull bite of Autumn. These may not seem surprising given the length of my trip but you are forgetting that I have seen them completely out of order. Imagine packing for such a trip and then you will have an idea of what my life was like my last days in NY. I have lived with the same limited "set" of clothes for nearly four months now. It will confound me to have a choice when I get to my closet in the morning when I get back. My entire world may collapse.

We spend three delightful days in Melbourne's CBD (central business district) strolling through shops, taking in views of the city, and finding undiscovered bars in the back alleys at night. With its Victorian style building and extensive tram system the city has a more of a European feel than any other in Australia. Its proximity to the Victorian landscape and coast is one if its greatest assets. After three days we set off for the Great Ocean Road an hour and a half outside of town. It was an OK experience, but then again, maybe I am jaded now. I have seen New Zealand you know. The GOR winds through a spectacular piece of coast just west of Melbourne. But it left me wondering as to when something deserves the term "great". I wouldn't exactly call this road "great". It's 'nicer" than most. It would be "great" if it were the only road next to an ocean. The only "wow" part of it is the 12 Apostles (pictured below and left) and their aren't even 12 of them anymore. Hmm..I did see some wild Koalas on the road? The night we spent in Port Cambel I grilled and ate Kangaroo meat for the first time. That was pretty "great". Unfortunately that same hostel kicked us out in the morning and we had to break into another empty hostel down the street just to eat breakfast. That was "great" for us, but maybe not to the hostel owner that we broke into. I guess it is just a matter of perspective.

For perspective take all the subtle differences between two western societies that are thousands of miles apart. For the sake of argument lets say Australia and the United States. Those differences are what color a place. Australia may feel like the states but I have noticed many small differences. And it would be down right rude of me not to point them out now that I have brought it up. (depending on your perspective).

Take the name Melbourne for example. It's actually pronounced Mel (BIN) with a long 'I" and not Mel (BORN) like you would think, as I have been pointed out on more than one occasion. There are always differences in language between places even when you speak the same language. It's a Cloak Room not a coat check you idiot.

Or the fact that you pay for every little thing here that you normally have been conditioned to assume are complimentary. Condiments is a good example. I love paying two dollars for my packet of ketchup. Or the Internet. Here you pay for the amount you download. You have a prepaid amount and once you hit that you have to sit back and twiddle your thumbs until your allotment renews. (this one I found particularly annoying..especially when catching up on my LOST episodes).

Service is something to note. There is no tipping but for some reason service is still just as good as when you would tip. Or when you forget to put something in your checked luggage at Quantas Airways-they happily give you a temporary bag to check it in with your already checked bags. And they do that with a smile..like you are the only person in the world.

You actually "hail" buses here like you would do with a taxi.

Something else I have noticed. I think we as Americans do not use our knives to their full potential. We cut, we put down and then we switch hands with our fork and then apply food to our mouth. For the rest of the world..its seems the knife is much more than simply a cutting tool. In fact it has a Swiss army myriad of uses. It's a second fork, a shovel for pushing food toward your fork, a balancer of pieces of food that are to big for the fork, and it is always held in the second hand while eating. Only then is it sometimes used as a knife to cut things. I am sure my grandmother is rolling in her grave over this.

And my personal favorite: The two button toilet. Yes folks were are talking about the economy flush or the jumbo flush. Somebody actually took the time to think through the fact that not all trips to the o'l "WC" are the same. Some require a little iddy-biddy flush and for those bad days (or good days depending on your perspective) a great big grand-daddy flush. In the end this probably saves water too. Perhaps this is just a testament to the way Australian/New Zealanders think through things environmentally.

Combine all of these little quarks, in a "great", western, safe (as long as you stay in the cities), prosperous society in a vast country with lots of strange animals and fun things to do with nothing in between- than you have Australia. As cute or as annoying some of these may be they are the paint in the picture that is Australia. And I love it.

I am going to throw it back to Bill Bryson one last time because he says it best in his book, In a Sunburned Country:

"That's the thing with Australia, you see. It teems with interesting stuff, but at the same time it's so vast and empty and forbidding that it generally takes a remarkable stroke of luck to find it"

As for me. I was lucky to just have been here.

The Perfect Outback Day

Something stirred in my brain.

Is something moving? Its too dark to be time to get up.

I open my eyes to the clear starry night sky and the light of the full moon.

Yep people are up and moving about camp. Must be time to go. Ugh. God only knows what time it is. It's cold?

Reality sinks in.

Man I am in the middle of the Northern Territory's outback sleeping under the stars. Need to take in the moment. hmm. Lets slip on my headphones and listen to my new Australian Anthem.

I listen to my Aboriginal inspired music as the night sky unfolds before me. My stomach goes giddy.

"Get up Steve! Do all Americans sleep in so late?"

I grunt. Not so much at the fact that I am the only American once again, but at the disturbance to the little world I had created for myself. I have breakfast in the dark, roll up my swag and boarded our safari van for our trip to watch the sun rise over Uluru. Everyone is waiting for me. What can I say? I am used to doing things on my own time. "Here comes the sun" is piped in over the speakers in our van.

Rachel thinks she is cute.

We get to where we need to be, disembark and watch something that should be mundane but its not. The sunrising. But this time it was over the largest rock on earth.

That's not something you see everyday. Good way to start my day. oh geez is that Swedish guy being stupid again?

After the sunrise we walk the base of Uluru. Good walk. Special place. Rachel gives a short guided walk about the history of the Aboriginal people. My mind wonders.

Did I leave the iron on? oh right..aboriginal people. Need to read more about them.

We load up the car and drive into the dessert on our way to Kings Canyon. I have nothing in front of me but the open road, my camera and the whole outback. "Ok folks", Rachel chimes in. " We are going to be making a stop at Kings Creek Station..oh and if any of you would like...they will take you up in a helicopter but they only will go if there is two people willing". My ears perked up like a kangaroo. I looked behind me and stared at the broke early 20 something group behind me.

Nobody is going to be willing to pay to go with me.

"Steve upfront wants to go" Rachel cracks over the mic reading the look on my face. I look behind me again and read the looks on everyone's faces. That crazy American.

"I'll go with you"

Oh ya the weird German guy. What's his name again. Frank? Matt? Amadeus? oh right Daniel. Hmm...maybe Germans are not so stoic after all..no matter what I am taking the front seat.

The motor rang to life and up and away we went for 15 minutes into the "back" of the outback. "So how long have you been flying this thing I asked our pilot". "Two years" she chimed back. I took a double take as if I expected it to be longer.

It's only 15 minutes. What can happen in fifteen minutes?

"Lets see if we can find you some wild horses" our pilot chimes in.

Horses? Chase down wild horses in the outback? That would make my day..

Two minutes later my day was made. A small pack of wild brumbies (horses) emerged on the plateau before us along with a couple of wild camels. She circles and gets in low.

Hmm. It's not everyday I chase down wild horses and camels with a helicopter in the Australian outback. Is this a movie?

We land with a wild grin on my face. We load back into the van and in honor of our flight Rachel selects "Danger Zone" from the movie Top Gun.

Shes thinks she is being cute again.

We drive a bit further and arrive near our camp at the mouth of Kings Canyon. I am giddy the whole way. We stop and take picture of the mouth of Canyon. The others giving me looks as I hop up on the trailer to get a better shot with a big smile on my face. I love taking pictures.

We arrive in camp just as the sun was setting over the landscape. We scamper up a small cliff and we watch as the earth does its thing as it does everyday but each day different.

This place is magical.

We make dinner in camp. Spaghetti Bolognese my favorite. After dinner we break out the wine and converse with people from all walks around the glow of the campfire. There are crazy stories of getting stuck in the outback while driving and dust storms that envelop whole towns. The sky becomes the pale dark blue that only becomes from the light of the full moon. My eyes grow heavy and I roll back into my "Swag".

Man these things are comfortable. Need to invest in one when I get back home.

Before exhaustion of the day sets in I slip back on my headphones and listen to my Australian anthem once again. I take in the glow of the milky way stars and the grandeur of the outback night sky. I am right back where I started.

If only I could spend everyday under the stars, chasing horses in a heli.......zzzzzzzzzzzzz.

The Real Australia

Welcome to the outback! The real Australia. The void that evaded the original colonists for many decades. The center of nothing. Here the earth is red and the average daily temp is in the 40's Celsius. Here the roads are so long you could spend days driving with out seeing a single thing. The Stuart Highway, which runs from Adelaide in the south all the way to Darwin in the far north, runs nearly 3000km but has only 2 curves in it. Here if somebody breaks down you have to stop and help. You maybe their only lifeline. As you drive you wave to on coming cars as if to say "howdy neighbor..hope everything is all right. Good luck with the rest of your 4k km journey!". Here the average speed limit is 130km per hour. (80.7 miles an hour). Here the road trains..i.e. tractor trailers can be up to six trailers long. Why not? You just about never make a turn. Things are so far apart here that ambulance services come in the form of "Flying Doctors" and instead of flying to the rescue in an ambulance they literally fly to you in an airplane. Here it is so dry they actually cancel boat races in Alice Springs if there is actually water in the river. I kid you not. Here things are so old that the oldest rivers systems on earth can be seen. This place is so vast so untouched that time literally has no meaning here. So why would I come to such a place? Because of a little rock named Uluru. (some of you know it as Ayers Rock)

It's really not so little. In fact it is the largest single rock on the face of the planet. Even though we can see only the very top of it. Think of flat nothing for miles and miles and then suddenly a huge red-orange colored rock that rises out of the surface of the planet for hundreds of meters into the sky out of nowhere. What? You traveled thousands of kilometers to see a rock? Yes I did. And you should too if you ever come here. But with most things you travel to its the experience of seeing it that counts. And there is no better way to experience the "Red Center" than on an Outback Safari for three days. And that is what I did.

Yes. We are talking three days of wide open, sleeping under the stars, cuddling with dingos kind of experience. Lovingly hosted by our wonderful guide Rachel. Rachel was from Victoria down south and she had this uncanny ability to talk and sound just like my friend Rachel from Melbourne who traveled with me in NZ. That's funny they even had the same name? Rachel was armed with a 30 gig MP3 player that she would pipe into our safari van when we drove. (which was about 90% of time) She had a song for every occasion. When it was time to go off road its was music like the "Mission Impossible theme" or when it was time to wake up at the ass crack of dawn and drive and watch the sun rise over Uluru it was things like the Beetles "Here Comes the Sun". I was allocated the front passenger seat so I got to pick her brain more than anyone else. She had this uncanny ability to have a thoughtful answer to every question posed to her which is so hard to find in people these days. I guess that is why she is a tour guide.

We started our adventure in Alice Springs. Pretty much the only town in the middle of nowhere. Its nothing but depressing. You think we in America have race relation problems? The Aboriginal presence here subsides in the form of drunken, smelly people who constantly wonder the streets. And I am not exaggerating. It was an eye opener and unfortunately this is part of the real Australia. Funny thing you don't know who to blame for this. Them or the people who came through their land and took it for themselves. It was all to reminiscent of a certain scenario in the United States over two hundred years ago..only this time is it much more recent and in your face.

From Alice we set off for Uluru and our first stop was Kata Tjuta. (commonly referred to as the "The Ulgas"). We took a hike in the middle of them. Built by the same geological forces that formed Uluru, they are a rock formation that is not to far away and often over looked. Then it was off to the watching of the sun set on the west face of Uluru. That night we camped under the stairs in "swags". They are sort of an Australian sleeping back/tent. The next day it was sunrise at Uluru and a hike around it's base. Rachel guided part of it and regaled us with amazing stories of the Aboriginals that lived and still live here. Next it was a long drive to Kings Canyon. Another night of sleeping under the stars and a long hike through Kings Canyon on the last day. Kings Canyon is a wondrous place. It's basically a large forgotten canyon carved through the plateau over millions of years. Inside is a mecca of layered rock, permanent waterholes and plants that grow to being hundreds of years old. It was certainly a high light of the trip. Oh and I even rode a camel and in a helicopter.

I can easily see how these places were sacred to the Aboriginals who lived here. There is something very special about them that I could only begin to articulate. Ya? but its still just a rock? For one: it is a symbol of Australia. Two: there is something about the color here and the way the light hits everything. Three: human history here predates anything we could ever care about. And fourthly (and most importantly): this place is immensely old. Older than what you would encounter anywhere else. And that gave me pause for thought most of all. Here was something that nature took millions of years to create. It was what it was: essentially just a rock. That is until nature came up with something else millions of years later to look at that rock, label it a rock, and appreciate it. Mankind. The rock was no longer just a rock anymore but a very special place. By inventing the human mind nature had reinvented its own creation. The real Australia is not just about beaches, and boomerangs, and amazing peanut butter. It's about how human kind changed nature by simpling looking at it and saying "Lets see what is out in that void and make it something". Its history is littered with such instances.

And for those of you who are wondering. No. I didn't climb the rock. Out of respect of the Aboriginals that ask you not to.

....and the fact that climbing the rock was closed for the day due to high winds. But hey..lets just forget that little bit of information shall we?

And Then There Was Just One...

When given a choice between spending some extra time with a great group of people or seeing that one extra site to see, I almost always side with the spending that time with the people. Half of traveling is meeting those like minded spirits in transit. Those that wonder and appreciate with you. This realization has lead me to believe that I am more of a people person than I allow myself to acknowledge. And that influence has deviated me from my schedule on more than one occasion. And for those that can't understand how one could travel for months, without schedule, it's the beauty of traveling this way. It's the people in your journeys that determine your schedule, to a certain extent. In most cases they are the leading factor in how long you spend in a place. If you have done it right your trip in the end is a string of new friends from all walks of life with shared common experiences. It's a reminder that those who wander are not necessarily lost.

The East Coast of Australia has a way of snowballing the people and friends you meet. By the time you reach Cairns, the last major stop at the top of the country, you have amassed a group of people littered with experiences from all over Australia. That is where Cairns surprised me. It's not the the bus depot, "get in and go where you need to then get out" kind of place that everyone made it out to be. I don't know if whether it was the Esplanade or the lagoon by the sea. Or the fact that the whole town sits next to the largest living thing on earth. Maybe it was the brilliant sunsets or the nightly pilgrimage of bats over the city. Or its nutty night life and pedestrian malls. It could have been the free BBQs in the park or it status as the last "hurrah!" for those traveling just the east coast. Or perhaps it was that fact that just about everyone who travels Australia comes to it at some point and runs into someone else they have met along the way. There is just something about Cairns.

So I have stayed longer in Cairns than planned. Why not? The people I met determined it. There was Simone, Bhavna, Tim, Don, Deanna and Christian from my dive boat. There was JJ and Sarah from Frasier Island and there was Justina and her friend Katrine who was dating the bass player from the band "Razor light". One day I organized a BBQ next to the lagoon (they have a swimming lagoon because you can't swim in the ocean because of the stinging jellyfish). Everyone came. As we sat in a big circle enjoying the Australian evening I couldn't help but be in awe of the people around me from all different walks of life. I had amassed the sum of my Australian travels all in one place next to the sea. The sun was setting and I was happy. It was the culmination of my east coast travels.

And as with most things over time the layers begin to peel away and one by one we began to go our separate ways. First it was Don and Deanna (who were only on a two week trip), then Tim and Bhavna. The next day Justina, Katrina, JJ and I rented a car and drove north to Cape Tribulation for a night. This is where some of the oldest rainforest on earth meets wild secluded beaches and eventually the sea. We did a guided night walk in the rainforest and had mango margaritas in Port Douglas. The highlight of the trip (well lets not say highlight) was when Justina nearly cut off her finger with her pocket knife while stealing some sugar cane from a field on the side of the road. After performing emergency bandaging in the women's bathroom of the hostel we drove nearly an hour before we could find the nearest town before we could find a small shack in the rainforest that contained a field nurse. Had it been a life threatening injury the situation would have been dire. In the end, Justina passed the ordeal with a smile and joke in her usual way. Those crazy Brits. Always looking for attention. Maybe it was my driving? Needless to say it was an adventurous end to our little road trip.

Upon our arrival back in Cairns it was just Simone, JJ, Sarah, Katrine, Justina and I. We braved the likes of the Woolshed and Gilligan's, two Cairns nightlife establishments, for a couple more nights. Then Sarah left, then Simone, and then Katrine. We made a few day trips to local floral and fauna around the area-one of which we ran into a giant snake slithering across the road. And I am talking giant..like six to eight feet long and 5 inches thick kind of long. Justina, who was driving, screamed on the top of her lungs. I screamed too. But I was screaming at Justina to stop the car so I could run after it and photograph it. (i never ended up getting a picture of it)Eventually it was time to drop JJ off at the airport leaving just two. Me and Justina. We ate on the Esplanade and watched the bats come in one last time, taking in Cairns for one last day. After much debate as to what I was going to do next (it seems my decision making skills stayed in the northern hemisphere while I went south)....eventually it was time even for me to leave. Leaving just one. Justina. Eventually, I believe, even Justina left-leaving Cairns to another group of wondering souls and another day next to the sea.

I could see all the wonders of the world but if I didn't meet great people along the way then the journey there would be pointless. Sometimes those wonders are only as far as the person sitting across from you.