Back to Alice for an Exotic Dinner

After a stop for breakfast sandwiches and coffee at the resort’s shopping area, we hit the road for the 4.5 hour trip back to Alice, stopping only once at the one turn we had to take for quite possibly the greasiest round of pigs in a blanket on record.

The trip was overly uneventful. Tedious, you might say.

Fortunately I’d booked our hotel room for the night several months in advance, so we were staying at the nicest digs in Alice Springs – the Crowne Plaza. Woohoo! I was feeling pleased with myself as Mom and Mr. Farmer waited in the car while Dad and I went to check in.

So you can imagine my surprise when the receptionist told me that we’d booked for the prior night.

What????

They had plenty of rooms, so the issue wasn’t about whether we would stay there. It was whether we were paying $150 or $250/night (for one room for all of us). I didn’t have my confirmation page printed out, so once they gave us the keycard, we got out stuff into the room and then I had to pay $10 to get online to make sure I wasn’t the one who made the error.

Ha! I was right. Hotels.com was wrong. I went back down to the front desk with my proof. The desk staff kept my confirmation and sorted it out directly.

Meanwhile, Dad meandered around the pool, and Mom nursed a headache in bed.

By 5:00 we were hungry, and after 10 minutes of mamby-pambying around, we decided to make a reservation at Overlanders Steak House, which was recommended to us on our first day in Alice – for an authentic Outback food experience. We were due at 5:30.

When we arrived, there wasn’t a soul in the dining room except our animated waiter, who promptly seated us and explained the extensive menu of exotic meats. He asked us where we were from, then brought back an American flag to display proudly on our table.

The waiter was great. He told us all about the big American population in the area doing satellite surveillance outside of town – like 6,000 people! He told us about the highlights of the region and gave us honest recommendations on the menu.

Mr. Farmer went for a ground kangaroo patty. I went for lamb. Mom had steak, and Dad had ribs.

The kangaroo patty was enormous. Very finely ground and pretty dry.

A good time was had by all.

A Hot and Fly-Ridden Hike in the Olgas

We slept fine and got up later than we should have for a hike at Kata Tjuta (also called the Olgas), which is a rock formation in the same vicinity of Ayers Rock. We ate our yogurt and granola bars, finally heading out around 9:30. The heat was already unbearable, but we went for it anyway.

There were a couple cars in the parking lot, and we saw there were a few hiking options. We did two short ones – one on each end. They were pretty flat walks with no shade, but we did have the highest vantage point to date to look out across the desert and see other rock formations.

The first jaunt was about 30 minutes round trip, and at the farthest point we captured one of my very favorite photos from the trip:

The second walk wasn’t quite as long, but we got a better look at the rock composition. It was more like a lot of large red pebbles held together with red grout.

We arrived back at camp around lunchtime, and we decided to just grab something from the snack bar – especially a cold drink. Mmmm, Diet Coke! The guys spent a good while drooling over the BMW bikes ridden by a French group making their way across the whole continent, from Perth to Sydney. Hot and crazy, if you ask me.

Meanwhile Mom and I went to sit by the pool, where the French men in bikini bottoms ultimately came to cool off. I was giving Mom a neck massage to cure her headache, and they jokingly tried to get in line.

That evening we ventured over to the shopping area of the resort to have an early dinner and get a few supplies at IGA. (The next morning we had breakfast at the coffee shop across the way, where we caught sight of a dog loping through the grounds, and our Asian waitress confirmed that it was indeed a wild Dingo.)

Back at camp, we left Dad in the cabin to finish Tipping Point, and the three of us hiked up a very short trail to a lookout point for sunset.

The Ayers Rock Experience

Packing the car for our 4.5 hour drive to Ayers Rock, we weren’t quite sure what to make of the Australian desert. We set out on the hot adventure, stopping first at McDonald’s to check e-mail and grab breakfast, then at the grocery store to get a few provisions for the next two days.

The drive is about 300 miles, and there’s not much to see after the initial gawking at the immensity of the red dirt.

Dad was most interested in the few cattle “stations” (ranches) that each covered vast areas of land – about 80 acres fed one cow. So to have any size of herd at all, you needed a helicopter and a ranch the size of 10 counties. We stopped twice: at a deserted waterless rest stop…

…then at a lookout point to see another rock mesa that resembled Ayers Rock. (The existence of many of these rock formations was a surprise to me.

I thought there was only one big rock on the flat desert.) Of particular interest at the second stop was the overland truck carrying backpackers. We’d seen these in South Africa (having made their way from as far away as Morocco), and given that it was a flat-nosed truck fitted with a box with seats and windows, it couldn’t have been a very smooth ride.

We did see kangaroos along the way. Unfortunately they were all road kill, likely stuck dead by the “road trains” (trucks with up to four trailers) that we met from time to time, making the thousands-of-miles trek from Adelaide to Darwin.

Finally we arrived at Ayers Rock Resort, our destination for the evening.

I’d spent quite a bit of time researching the resort ahead of time, trying to figure out how to make our stay economical. The rental car experience was just the first taste of how expensive it is to vacation in the middle of nowhere. And the resort, though it has six different “hotels” to choose from plus two restaurants, a grocery store and other services, is owned by one company. There’s no other option literally for hours.

I’d chosen the lowest priced hotel (since we didn’t have tent for the campground, and Mom prefers to sleep in a bed), and we’d opted to all stay in the same room, since it was still a hefty $275/night. And this was “bunk accommodations” rather than a basic hotel room.

We followed the snaking circular road around the resort to the Outback Pioneer Lodge and found the main building to check in. Seemed decent enough – a bit like a rustic church camp with open-air common areas and metal-roofed cabins each with 6 rooms or so scattered in the outlying areas.

We were assigned to a building about as far away as you could get from the main building, and parking was also a bit of a hike. So we gathered up our stuff and made our way via sidewalks and dusty red paths to our home for the night.

I think we were underwhelmed, to put it lightly. But we had a bathroom (divided into two rooms of toilet and shower) and a refrigerator, plus two bunks with clean sheets. We would live. We all promptly hopped into bed for a siesta to wait out the heat.

We’d caught a glimpse of the rock on our drive to the hotel, but we needed to drive several miles further south to see it up close. At 4:00 I roused the troops to make our way that direction, as the visitors center was going to close before we got there if we didn’t get a move on. Then we’d stick around for the big event – watching the sunset.

Again, this leg of our trip was killing our budget. It was $25/person for a three-day pass, so we shelled-out another 100 bones for admission. Sigh.

We could see Uluru (Ayers Rock) clearly now, and honestly it was only mildly interesting. The authors of our travel book described the place as a “spiritual experience”, with the “Sounds of the Silence” dinner back at the resort a must-do (because you could see the stars). I suppose it’s difficult to impress country folks like us who have full view of the stars pretty much every night.

At any rate, we hit the visitors center, which was mainly an Aboriginal culture exhibit with a section talking about the geology, plants and animals of the area. The cultural part accompanied by an eerie recording of didgeridoo was ok (we’d heard enough about the Aborigines by that point), but the snake identification part was what really got under my skin. Eeek! (Fortunately there were only photos and not live specimens.) Read more about all of these topics HERE.

The gift shop and snack bar were closed, and there were only a few people meandering through. So we made our way back to the car to drive the 6-mile loop around the base.

Thought I was by no means having a “spiritual experience,” the rock itself was interesting. It looked like it had once been painted red and the paint had run down the face (I guess this was iron?). And it’s one big solid piece of rock – which is remarkable given the size. There was a fence running straight up one side, which people used as a foothold for climbing it. The Aborigines frown on such climbs, and given how steep and smooth it is, it looked like danger to me. Quite a few people have died trying.

We got out of the car at one point to have a closer look (still at least 100 feet away), then drove the rest of the way around back towards camp.

About half way we stopped at the sunset viewing point, which had already started to fill with cars. Then we waited among the swarms of flies for the light to do its magic.

The light began to change. (Pretty, but a lot of hype, if you ask me.)

And then it was done. Everyone hopped in their cars and made their way back to camp for dinner

The restaurant at our “lodge” was a cool concept – pick your meat and grill it yourself. They had a buffet of sides to accompany the chosen meat. Dad had beef, I had chicken.

Mr. Farmer opted for a burger and beer from the snack bar rather than making his own dinner. It was a pleasant evening (sans flies) to sit at the picnic tables and listen to the acoustic guitar player sing old favorites.

Encountering The “Red Center”

Australia was one of the first countries on our list when we planned our trip, and a visit to the middle of the massive desert, specifically to see Ayers Rock (Uluru), was a priority of mine. This was no easy finagle – flights are expensive, and we had to carefully plan the order of our Australian leg so that we could make it all work.

My initial impression (from who knows where – Crocodile Dundee?) was that Alice Springs and Ayers Rock were close together. Not so. It’s a 4-5 hour trip by car one way, and smart travelers (which we weren’t) fly into one and out of the other, so that they make the trip by car in only one direction. I was fully aware of this fact when we booked our trip, but the info in the travel guide just didn’t seem to sink in. So we were flew into and out of Alice Springs.

The plan was to arrive mid-day in Alice Springs, do a short evening hike in the McDonnell Ranges near Alice, then drive to Ayers Rock the next day, where we would spend two nights and drive back to Alice for one more night.

Mishaps began as soon as we landed. It was blazing hot as we walked across the tarmac to the terminal, where we decided to dump the apples we’d brought along in the specified trash can so that we wouldn’t get busted by Agriculture Control (weird that you can’t bring stuff even from state to state).

Then we reached the rental car counter. I was convinced that I’d booked a full size car with unlimited mileage, but to my dismay, we only had 100 km per day. Keep in mind that it was many hundred kilometers to get to Ayers Rock one way. And we were going to have to pay like $.50/mile for overages.

This was not good news. Turns out that every car rental company had these terms for rentals out of Alice Springs. They had us by the short hairs, so we gulped and loaded up the Ford Taurus with our bags. Fortunately Mr. Farmer succeeded in negotiating 150km/day, which helped a little. Sigh.

Alice Springs is a small town by most people’s standards – under 30,000 people. The airport is a several miles outside of town, and on our trip into the metropolis to our hotel, we stared at the desert in wonder. It was dry and red. Period.

Our hotel required us to cross the Todd River, which was completely dry. Apparently it has water less than a month a year. This was no teeny creek either – it was at least 100 feet wide and had brides over the river of sand.

We tried to find an eek of shade in the parking lot of our decidedly 1980s Comfort Inn, but there was none to be had. As we checked-in, one of our fellow plane travelers was also checking in, and he recommended that we hit Overlanders Steakhouse one evening. (More on that in a separate post.)

Our room was on the end of one wing of the second floor, with motel outdoor entry. And what a strange room it was! Especially considering that the four of us would all be in the same room (to mitigate the $200+/night rate). At first glance, there appeared to only be one bed. But after walking almost completely across the room to the windows, one of the interior walls ended to reveal a cubby with two single beds. Lovely. That’s not to mention the bathroom which was a pre-fab room complete with shower and toilet that had simply been placed in the corner of the room. We wondered if we were in an RV instead of a motel.

By this time we just weren’t sure what to make of things. We resorted to laughing at each new surprise.

It was Saturday afternoon, and I was hot to trot about hiking in the McDonnell Ranges. One of these ranges began near town and extended quite a distance, and there were a couple hiking spots within 45 minutes. So we made a stop in downtown Alice to search for an Aussie hat for Dad, and finding that stores had all closed at noon, we made our way west out of town to our first stop: Standley Chasm.

This was actually kind of cool. It was on private property, and the owners had made it into somewhat of an attraction, complete with a snack bar and entrance fee. Steep in my opinion – I think it was $8/person. Payment of this fee allowed us to walk the trail back through the rocks to a pure rock chasm.

It was a short hike of about 10 minutes to get there.

We heard the light of the morning makes it shine even brighter red, but the evening light still made it interesting.

We climbed around on the rocks for a while trying to identify various animal skeletons while swatting the insane swarms of flies. Then it was back to the car.

Our second stop was Simpsons Gap, which was on our way back to Alice. The big story there was rock wallabies – apparently this was a good place to spot them. We drove a few miles off the highway down a red sand road to a parking lot near the rocks. A few minute walk brought us to another sand creek bed – this one with a little water hole!

We met an older couple just ready to head back to their car, and they said they’d seen a wallaby by sitting very still and looking up in the brush. So we had high hopes for a spotting.

Just as we got near the water hole, one hopped down behind us to dig down into the sand for a drink! We couldn’t believe it. It was super close.

Not one minute later, a loud Indian family tromped up from the parking lot and just wouldn’t shut up. We kept trying to point and wave our arms to signal to be quiet, but they paid us no heed. Loud and stupid they came up the trail, practically trying to walk up to it. Needless to say, it hopped away. But we caught some footage!

By this point we were intrigued. Once that one was gone we sat on a rock bench and studied the brushy rock hill to see if we could find another one. Nothing. But the evening sun made the red rocks glow.

After another 20 minutes we headed for the car and back to Alice.

It was now time for dinner, and we’d read about an Italian restaurant in town that sported an autographed photo of Tom Selleck when he’d dined there filming Quigley Down Under. If it was good enough for Tom, it was good enough for us, right? The problem was that we didn’t know where it was, and at that point we couldn’t even remember that it was Italian.

We drove down the main drag and crossed the dry Todd River, thinking we were now in no man’s land headed for a U-Turn. But there was a white building on the corner with dark screened windows (not super inviting) that said it was an Italian restaurant – Casa Nostra Pizza Bar and Spaghetti House. Hardly any cars outside. What the heck, we thought. It was either that or McDonald’s.

You can imagine our surprise when we opened the door to a hopping restaurant, and the hostess seemed annoyed that we didn’t have reservations! Serendipitously we’d found Selleck’s hideaway, and we enjoyed sharing a couple yummy pizzas.

So day one turned out pretty good. For me, it was the most enjoyable day in the desert. We headed to bed in our strange room, preparing for our long drive to Ayers Rock the next morning.

The Quest To Spy Crocs By Spotlight

For our last full day on the northeast coast, we decided to drive north through Port Douglas and Mossman Gorge to the Daintree River, where we would join Dan Irby on his night time Mangrove Adventure. The prospect of spying crocodiles and pythons from an open-air fishing boat on the river was a little scary, but also exhilarating (though the people in the front row begged to differ). We’d made arrangements directly with Dan a couple days before, and luckily the rain clouds stayed at bay and our tour was on.

It was about a 90 minute drive to the tour meeting point, and we left with just enough time to make two stops on the way.

I’d contemplated staying in Port Douglas rather than nearer to Cairns at Trinity Beach, but it was pricier on account of its smaller, quaint atmosphere and celebrity clientele. Just after we turned off the main highway to drive a few short miles into town, the road became lined with manicured grounds and palm trees, signaling our entry into rich resort land.

Downtown was darling, and we serendipitously ended up at the harbor, which is always a risky proposition when Mr. Farmer is around – he can sit and stare at boats for hours. (It’s a good thing there are usually ice cream shops near harbors, so I can’t say it’s torture.)

It was hot, sunny and muggy that afternoon, so I took every opportunity to stand in the shadow of big signs as we walked the piers to look at the HUGE reef-bound snorkel tour boats. These boats would literally take hundreds of people out for the day and dock at floating ocean playlands on the reef. We capped off our stop with an ice cream treat on Main Street and a visit to the ATM.

We drove northward then turned off to the west to the entrance to Mossman Gorge. The narrow and basic paved road took us through what appeared to be an Aborigine government housing project in the middle of nowhere, then ended at the parking lot for the park’s hiking trails.

We were greeted by the sight of some goofy girl backpackers running around the trails barefoot in bikinis, jumping off rocks into the river. (Weren’t there supposed to be crocs in there? I guess not.)

I was expecting something akin to the Royal Gorge, but this was more or less a very short hike through the rainforest to a lookout point over rushing water. Pretty, but not grandiose.

We watched the crazy girls splash around from a distance and then made a beeline for the car so we would get to the tour on time.

Dan had told us to meet at the exclusive and hidden-away Daintree EcoLodge and Spa. We had no trouble finding it, but it appeared to be completely deserted. We drove up the curvy, tree-covered driveway to the parking lot behind the main building, which is where I surmised we would meet. It was 5:55, and we were to meet at 6:00.

At 6:15, not one car had shown. Hmmmm.
I finally succumbed to Mr. Farmer and Dad’s suggestion that we drive around to the front, and sure enough, a small group had gathered by the driveway entrance, impatiently waiting for us to arrive.

Our group was small – about 12 people total. Dan made introductions and then led us across the road and through the trees to a tiny dock on a tributary of the river. (I was paranoid the whole time about potentially stepping on a snake on the walk.) There stood what appeared to be a fishing boat with twelve swivel seats in pairs from front to back. The four of us were the last to get in the boat, which meant that Dad and Farmer were in the front seats.

As we motored through the tributary towards the river, Dan talked about the Mangrove trees (which I’d never heard of, since I’m a plains girl). We also probed him for his bio, as we’d read he was originally from north central Oklahoma and had eventually ended up doing medical research in Melbourne before retiring north to a warmer climate and the call of nature. Most of the questioning throughout the tour, came from the nerdy family behind us who had two college-age boys decked out in safari hats and the full range of wildlife spotting garb, including spotlights and field guides. (It hadn’t even occurred to us to bring a flashlight. Good thing we’d remembered the bug spray.)

We completely lucked out on weather – it was perfect. The river was the perfect mirror for the sky.

Our first find was a green tree frog.

The sun was just setting when we spotted an enormous flock of egrets (aka cowbirds) in the trees.

We gawked at them for a while, then drifted to the other side of the river, where Dan pointed out a Kingfisher.

Hark! Crocodile eyes on the other bank! Dan shot the spotlight in that direction. I couldn’t see a thing. I think Mom and Farmer caught a glimpse, but by the time we got across the river, they were nowhere to be found.

At that point, nerdy guy #1 proclaimed that he really wanted to see a python. Dan told us to look for horizontal branches, which is where they normally hang. After this announcement, Farmer and Dad were nearly in our laps in the second row with their arms flailing around every time Dan pulled the front of the boat up to the bank. I hate snakes (to the point that looking at pictures of them in books makes my heart stop), but I still kinda wanted to see one.

A few minutes later, back around the bend on the other bank, we finally saw the teeny yellow eyes of a baby crocodile peering just above the water. Fortunately my vision of crazy crocs circling our boat attempting to bite off our arms was grossly inaccurate. They seemed to be quite shy.

Back up the tributary past the dock, Dan spotted an owl-like bird.

Then we pulled right up to a lizard perched atop a 45-degree-angle branch, just as Dan had predicted. (Farmer and Dad tried really hard not to scream like little girls as Dan bumped the boat into the bank right under the lizard.)

We ended up seeing a huge spider and a few other species of birds before he brought us to the tour’s end. He helped us out of the boat and loaned us a flashlight as we walked back through the woods to the car, delighted with our fun and interesting evening on the water. (The only bummer was the 90-minute drive home, which took us a little longer due to the stop through the McDonald’s drive thru.)

Turkey Day

Thanksgiving Day didn’t start out well, to say the least.

For the second time this trip, Mr. Farmer had answered, “Yes!” when I asked him if the alarm clock was set to the correct time zone. And for the second time, it went off an hour earlier that we’d intended.

Mr. Farmer once said that my morning temperament is like that of a angry skunk, and I was already dreading the thought of getting up at the crack of dawn to make our 7 a.m. call time at the bus stop to go on a day trip to the Great Barrier Reef. “BEEP, BEEP, BEEP” I heard. Then I discovered that it was 5 a.m.

And it was raining. Hard.

Things weren’t looking good (especially for Mr. Farmer). I hadn’t slept well for two nights running, on account of the air conditioning blowing right on me. I was crabby, and I welled-up for the first time (of three) that day.

I’d been looking forward to this outing, and it was an expensive one. It was Mr. Farmer’s only chance to dive the reef, and I was on the fence about whether I would attempt SCUBA for the first time, too. It’s one of Farmer’s great loves, and he’d been patient with my initial “no way” stance, ultimately convincing me to at least consider the possibility. And today was the day. The pressure! (Too bad I couldn’t just hold my nose and pop my ears to make it all equalize.)

I tossed around in bed for another hour, and ultimately we all got up and around. I even managed to keep my claws at bay. We snacked for breakfast and grabbed our daypacks to walk around back to the bus stop.

We made several stops to gather fellow snorkelers on our way to the port in Cairns, where our 45-person catamaran was docked. It was still raining a bit, so we were still skeptical that we’d get what we were bargaining for out of the experience.

Chipper skippers congregated at the entry to the piers doing triage as the busloads arrived. We identified a friendly gal as our shepherd for the day, and she took us to the boat to sign-in. It was still raining, and we were just about the last to arrive, so we grabbed some fruit, pastries and coffee and found a seat inside the cabin to squish into for the 45-minute cruise out to the reef.

Captain Andy called us to order for a safety briefing, and we set out for the 20-mile ride to our first destination.

This was a pretty fast boat, and the water was choppy from the storm. So you can imagine the prevailing young (and hung over) crowd was having a bit of difficulty keeping their cookies on the right end of the pipe.

The crowd definitely trended early 20’s, but there were a few older European couples, plus a really bizarre sweaty fat dude with bear fur who had a HUGE Navy Seal tattoo on his back. He was a heart attack waiting to happen, and we wondered if it was an issue that he looked a bit green on the ride out.

When we’d boarded the boat, they’d asked us if we were diving or just snorkeling (so that we could pay appropriately). At that point I was still on the fence. In fact, I was thinking, “No.” But just after we got underway, Benny (who looked like a 70’s porn star with his longer wavy blond hair and dark brown moustache) came around with disclaimer papers for Intro to Scuba. What the heck, I thought. I guess today is the day.

I started the journey inside the cabin to finish my coffee, then meandered outside to the back of the boat by Mr. Farmer, who was watching the boat make waves.

When I headed back inside, the boat was still bumping up and down over the waves as it cruised along at 30 mph. Just as I went to step through the door, my foot caught on the high threshold and I fell arms first into the bar, scraping my entire forearm and pad of my hand on the edge.

#*%^$*#*&^%!!!!!!! The pain was excruciating. I’m not sure whether it was good or bad that no one saw me take this digger. My arm was throbbing something terrible, but I managed through some sort of miracle to keep back the tears.

After getting my wits about me again, we chatted a bit with the crew, and they assured us that rain was typical right at the coastline, and it would likely be sunny and beautiful when we reached our destination.

It was our good luck that they were right.

The itinerary for the day was as follows:
1. Snorkel tour off a sand cay
2. Lunch
3. Snorkeling and diving at another reef location, with optional glass bottom boat outings

I’d more or less recovered from the trip outside when we reached our first destination, which was the cutest little sand island I’d ever seen, glistening in the bright yellow sunshine, surrounded by light blue, clear water. It was really only big enough to hold the 45 of us. And though we were 20 miles from the coast, the water was super shallow for quite a distance. The boat dropped us off with our snorkel gear, then headed out to anchor about a quarter mile away. Two of the crew would each lead a group in a snorkel tour that would end up back at the boat.

As we got situated in our fins and spit in our masks, the hairy fat dude sat down in the middle of the group to have a smoke.

The four of us were among the last to leave the sand, thinking that we’d just float along at our own pace rather than go in the middle of a group. Ultimately we caught up with them, which in my opinion, was an error on our part. The guide would pick up a sea cucumber, and everyone would make a beeline to touch it, kicking each other as they went. I found myself in the middle of this scramble several times, and I very nearly kicked people on purpose just to get some space. I’m a good swimmer and didn’t have a life jacket on, and though I never felt like I was going down, it was a little disturbing to be kicked when I wasn’t expecting it. The lesson here is that a dive boat with just 10-12 people is a much more enjoyable experience, even if you’re just snorkeling.

So on this beautiful day, in probably the most incredible ocean scene I’d ever witnessed, in warm water that didn’t require a wet suit, I wasn’t having a very nice time.

Back on the boat, the crew had laid out a nice spread for lunch. Chicken, potato salad, prawns (which seem to be a big selling point on these day trips), rolls, cookies.

After lunch, as we motored to the next dive location, Benny gathered us SCUBA newbies on the top deck for our briefing. Intro to SCUBA is really the only way you can dive without being certified. Basically they teach you how to breathe, then they take you down one-on-one, with the instructor literally holding your hand and monitoring your equipment the whole time. You only go to about 15 feet, so it’s fairly low risk all around.

I was put in the second group, so I had a while to snorkel and enjoy the afternoon before donning equipment. So Mom and I joined a few other passengers on a glass bottom boat tour out and around the main vessel. Meanwhile, Mr. Farmer took his first of two dives:

For whatever reason, I ended up crying. I think I was motion sick. Or maybe PMS sick in the head? Good grief, I was an annoyance even to myself.

When we got back, it was my turn to “suit up.” Seemed ok so far, though I felt like I was having an out-of-body-experience, which didn’t bode well for a situation where I needed to be totally alert. They outfitted me with tanks and a mask.

I was the last one sitting on the bench, and finally Captain Andy came to take me to the back of the boat. I was to jump in by just stepping off the back of the boat, and Odie (a sweet early 20s gal) would be my instructor.

She motioned me to come up to a railing at the back of the boat, where she showed me how to breathe with that crazy apparatus. Then it was my turn to give it a try.

I put my head under water to take my first breath, and the air rushed in so fast I wasn’t sure what to do. I started to panic. I pulled my head above water. She motioned for me to try again. (Meanwhile my three relatives were peering over the back of the boat watching me freak.) Once more I stuck my head under water. And again the air was coming faster than I expected. I just couldn’t relax. And at that point I told her (with tears in my eyes), that I just wasn’t in the frame of mind to do this today.

So this little bit of a thing, who looked all of 12, took me by the shoulders, looked me in the eye and said, “You’re out on the Great Barrier reef. It’s amazing under there. I was scared my first time, too, but you’re going to get the hang of it. Just relax. I promise you, you don’t want to miss it.”

Oh brother. Now I had no choice – she’d called me out. So I sucked it up like a big girl, put my head under water, and realized that it wasn’t that bad.

After a minute or so of practice breathing, Odie was convinced that I was ready to head out for real. By then, I was convinced I could do it, too. So off we went, hand in hand, next to another pair, to see what the reef had to offer.

She motioned me to feel one of the swaying coral. We looked at little schools of fish hiding in the tendrils. She picked up a starfish. What an experience! And I didn’t have to worry about clearing my snorkel every 30 seconds.

It was absolutely the highlight of the day, and perhaps the highlight tour of Australia. Even clearing my ears wasn’t bad, which was one of the things that had initially worried me.

We were only out for about 20 minutes, and once we got back Mom and I dove off the boat to snorkel a bit more. (Dad had long since hung up his fins to yap with everyone.) It was a great lazy afternoon to float with the current.

About 3:00 it was time to pack it up. We sat in the open air on our cruise back to shore, basking in our last few minutes on the water.

After the boat dropped us at the pier, we browsed souvenirs while waiting for other riders’ boats to come in. Then the bus meandered us back to the condo.

That evening Mom took charge of putting together the Thanksgiving dinner we’d gathered at the supermarket: rotisserie chicken, green beans, sweet potatoes, stuffing. The works. Indeed, it was a little strange to be eating the annual bird in hot weather.

I’m sure the other three were glad we’d opted for chicken. They’d had enough from the turkey of the day.

Relaxing In Trinity Beach

Our trip to the farm was a bit of a marathon, as it was over 3 hours away from Brisbane. We’d driven there in the morning, spent that night back in Toowoomba (an hour closer to Brisbane), and then woke up early to drive the remaining hours to the airport to catch a late morning flight to Cairns.

Considering that we didn’t know the area at all, Derek did a great job driving (on the “proper” side of the road). We even got to the airport grounds on time. We did have a small set-back when we chose to return the rental car to the international terminal rather than the domestic one, which necessitated a $5/person train ride and some rousing of the nerves as to whether we’d make it to check-in on time. (And for some reason birds continued to swoop at Derek’s head, which had been a theme since my parents arrived.)

Speaking of check-in, we were flying JetStar, which is Australia’s more upscale/mod version of Southwest. Derek and I had been “guests” once before (hideous connections on our Bali-Darwin-Sydney-Auckland leg). The good news was that we had assigned seats (unlike Southwest, which is one major reason I try to avoid them). The customer experience was just ok – it’s annoying to have to pay for water. And they were in the spotlight for not providing a wheelchair to a parathlete, who proceeded to “walk” himself all the way down the terminal on his hands and stump.

The best part about JetStar? The female flight attendants’ blazers. They win hands-down for style. I want one (just not in orange).

It turned out we were in fine time. I spent the flight reading up on the reef and deliberating whether we should get a rental car.

We landed and stepped out into the sweltering soup of the northeast coast, still deliberating about the car. Finally we bit the bullet and decided that public transport was just going to be a pain. We ended up with a Holden (GM) sedan, a brand we’d been pondering in passing for the past couple weeks.

I was looking forward to this leg of the trip – it was one of our “rest stops” of four nights in the same hotel. And we’d majorly scored on our accommodations with a 2-bed, 2-bath beachfront condo for $135US/night. Based on this deal (and the reviews I read on Trip Advisor), I’d decided we should stay in Trinity Beach, which is about 20 minutes north of Cairns. Port Douglas (another hour north) was another more pricey option, but Trinity Beach turned out to be a great decision.

Trinity is a small and sleepy vacation town, full of condos and sprinkled with a few restaurants and a tiny IGA. We were thrilled to discover that our place was literally across the road from the beach – though not one where you could swim freely. There was a portion down the way with a net to keep out the sting rays and other nasty creatures that could get you.

The managers of our building had the building next door, and they were super personable. Our objectives upon arrival were (1) find food, and (2) figure out a reef trip. The manager recommended several solutions for both. We ended up having lunch at the beach snack window, which had nice sandwiches and a daily special of “veggie slice”, which was the choice for both mom and me (think veggie lasagna without the noodles).

At that point, Dad sat down to write his blog entry about the farm.

This region is pretty close to the equator, which means that summer days are shorter than in Kansas. Mom, Mr. Farmer and I set out at dusk to get supplies at IGA, which turned out to be a longer walk than we thought. Probably close to a mile. On the way there the birds were squawking something crazy in one big tree. I thought nothing of it at the time.

So we shopped in the rather sadly stocked store, and by the time we started our return, it was completely dark. Not many street lights, either.

Suddenly, what looked like big birds swooped across the street. “Those are bats!” I told the others. They didn’t believe me, until we got to Sydney and saw them in droves in the botanical gardens. I think they were the culprits of all that squawking, too.