A Man Surrounded

Being encompassed by ten women for over a week seems like a scene out of a man’s fantasy.  Yet for one male, it was just another traveling experience. 

It’s also not as fun as my fellow men would imagine.

“Dad”

That was the label bestowed upon me for the nine day trip.  With my dad-like sense of humor and concern for my fellow travelers I was labelled instantly by the group.  Even the much older bus driver, Kerry, didn’t get the trip’s honorary title (not that he was with us outside of the bus a lot).   

However, as with all jokes, the name soon faded into nothing.  With no reaction piercing my stare after every mention of “Dad,” the joke ceased to exist.  Funny enough, this was a trick I learned from my father.  He used to do the same thing to my younger self when I was being annoying. 

Not that these ladies were annoying me!  Let’s make that clear to everyone reading (especially the girls from the trip).  I have been surrounded by women my entire life and therefore, not a lot fazes me or gets me annoyed anymore. 

No, I’m not a “lady killer” of “womanizer.” Starting from my family and branching out, I just happen to always pick the trips and activities that place me into these types of situations. 

It can be traced back to my younger days when I grew up with only girl cousins when I was babysat by my grandmother.  Also, there were few male children at the catholic elementary school I attended. 

Of course, the types of activities I chose to participate in as I grew up, such as theatre, didn’t help my odds either.

And then there was the last big school-related trip I took my junior year of high school where I was again the only male student as we travelled to France for a week in the summer. 

I have just been constantly surrounded by women in almost everything that I do.  Even traveling halfway around the world to Australia, I couldn’t escape the pattern that followed.

A positive for being the only male on a trip is a room to myself at almost every place we stay.  This means no one to compete with for the shower or the nighttime television, a quiet place to write, and the ability to sleep soundly at night with no one to disturb me.  Everyone is usually jealous.

Everyone expected me to write a deeply insightful review about how it was to be the only man on my most recent trip, except I really can’t do that.  I didn’t detach from my norm, so I have no idea what it’s like to not travel with almost all women.  I really can’t write such a review.

What I can say though, it that the trip along the coast of New South Wales with ten ladies, two female administrators, and a bus driver was probably one of the best trips I have every taken. 

The experience will remain in my memory for the rest of my life because of the views, the locals, and the adventures, not because I was surrounded by women.

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It Was the Best of Times, It Was the Worst of Times

 

Spending the entire night waking up every hour to trudge to the bathroom sick is not my idea of a good time.  Yet, less than 12 hours later, I was rocking on a boat in a skintight wetsuit waiting to plunge into the ocean. 

Despite the sickness and boat not being a good combination, I was determined to see my way onto Montague Island off the coast of New South Wales.  Whether or not that was a good idea is still up for debate. 

I won’t bore or sicken you with the details of my previous night.  All you have to know is that it wasn’t pretty nor pleasant.  As sunlight pierced the curtain to my motel room at Bermagui Motor Inn, I was certain that I wasn’t going to be able to move outside of my room for the entire day. 

Of course, I forgot that the day involved snorkeling with seal pups.  So, after much debate in my mind, and an orange juice swigged down, I threw my bathing suit and towel into my camera bag and hopped onto the bus. 

A thirty minute bus ride into town and a wet suit thrusted into my arms for $15 later, I stepped onto a rocky boat.  With bags in tow, everyone jumped aboard and before I knew it, the skipper, Chris, and his mate, Matt, were taking our little group out over choppy seas.

Rolling in the waves with a queasy stomach wasn’t the best idea ever.  Chris imparted his advice on us by saying, “Look at the horizon, don’t look down,” not that it made a difference to me.  But, chasing humpback whales and viewing seals off the coast of Montague Island soon eased my stomach whoas. 

When we arrived onto the island, the caretaker and tour guide Danny greeted us with a wide smile as he helped everyone off the boat and up the metal ladder to land.  Our tour led us 60 meters in elevation around the island, but the views of the island and ocean from the lighthouse were well worth the difficult climb (I say difficult because we were waddling in our wetsuits the whole way). 

But, I haven’t gotten to the best part of the day yet: snorkeling with seal pups.  Even though I was still struggling with my illness, the cold water seemed to seep it all away through my steamer wetsuit.  Plus the seals’ playfulness didn’t hurt my mood.

When the pups saw you in the water splashing about, they would become interested and dive in to see what the whole commotion was about.  Swimming straight at you, the seals would then turn quickly away right before running into you.  The longer you looked into their bulging brown eyes, the longer they would stay swimming around you. 

I didn’t want the experience to end, but the cold water and the falling sun had another thing to say.  So, we got back onto the boat and chugged towards the mainland through the increasing wind and waves. 

Going from a horrible morning to one of the best experiences of our travel writing trip along the coast was most certainly an emotion rollercoaster.  Hence why it was the best of times, and the worst of times…

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From Border to History

“You’ll Love Every Piece of Victoria”

The sign loomed into view from the bus as we sped along Princes Highway.  But, I thought we weren’t leaving New South Wales on our journey along the eastern coast of Australia?  Crap, something went wrong.

Before I could pull out my headphones to hear what Sharon and Kerry were talking about in the front, the bus pulled over and turned around.  It seemed we missed out turn towards the Davidson Whaling Station along the highway somewhere. 

So, we travelled back.  Thirty minutes of paved road and thick forest later we pulled down a narrow dirt path towards a hidden gem of Eden.  I call it a hidden gem because the mix of historic artifacts and the sandy beach make the Davidson Whaling Station a destination worth bumping around in your seat for five minutes. 

When you pull into the parking lot, the place doesn’t appear to be much.  A few wooden posts outline the designated parking area, and a shack with a toilet (if you can call it that) marks the entrance to the trail. 

Once you traverse past the simplistic beginnings, the place begins to shine.  A black hard plastic trail leads the adventurer towards “Loch Garra,” the house of the Davidson family for the early 20th Century. 

Even though it has been refurbished since falling into the hands of the National Parks and Wildlife Service, the house still contains its old charm.  The wooden structure boasts a garden and decent yard, surrounded by a barbed wire fence so visitors cannot disturb its pristine condition. 

Moving down the path from the house, you appear from the woods onto a beach where the whales were once processed by the Davidson family.  Some of the rusted cauldrons and metal boxes used to cook and store the whale blubber still exist and can be looked at from the path.

The beach is what really shines on this historic site.  Full of shells of all shapes, colors and sizes, it is a curious child’s dream.  Without large amounts seaweed to get in the way of the sand or the water, swimming and tanning are a must for visitors. 

Plaques line the pathways in the area, containing information about whaling and the Davidson family.  Passed the waves and across Twofold Bay, views of a sandbar and Eden can be glimpsed on a sunny day. 

While a whaling business may have thrived in that exact spot almost a century ago, it’s now a place you have to visit while touring Eden on the eastern coast.  If not for the history, then you should go for the beach and the view. 

The Townies of Eden

Have you ever seen the British film Hot Fuzz where the small town of Sandford contains perpetual smiles and greetings from every resident?  I never thought that existed in real life, until I went to Eden, NSW. 

Walking around the town’s wharf on the Queen’s Birthday, every resident had a smile plastered on their face, saying hello to everyone who passed by.  Striking up conversation was easy, especially when they all wanted to know who you were and why you were in their coastal town.

Surprisingly, even amongst the cold temperatures and ocean wind, many people were exploring the wharf’s cafés, restaurants, and docks.  Ann and David Thomas, who have lived in Eden for 4 months, were walking down one of the docks when I ran into them.  Since we were all heading in the same direction, we started to chat about Eden and why they chose to live here.

After traveling and living in many places around Australia, both said they decided to settle in Eden because they enjoy the small town atmosphere.  “You can go out and talk to people here,” said Ann, “there’s a lot of history here to explore.”

David followed with, “At every angle there’s either ocean or you mountains.  We’re here in this absolute paradise.”

Paradise is right, not only with the views, but with the people as well.  To continue the traditional small town stereotype, everybody knows everybody in Eden.  That was most apparent when I sat down at a local café called “Sprout” with Jenny Rob. 

My first indication was when I went up to by Jenny a coffee.  She said, “I’ll have a long black, just mention me, they know how I like it.”  And of course, once Jenny was mentioned to the person behind the counter, greetings ensued between the two ladies for a few minutes as they caught up with each other. 

The second indication was when another lady walked into Sprout to speak to Jenny because she knew Jenny would be there.  Not that I needed anymore cues that Eden was a small town, for I ran into David and Ann from the wharf again coming in to grab a coffee and a bite for lunch. 

The couple had walked up a gigantic hill and down the main drag all the way to this café to eat lunch when there were perfectly nice cafés down on the wharf itself.  That was when I knew Sprout was the place for the locals (Plug for future article about the spot!).

But as not to digress from the topic of this blog, Jenny was also in love with the small town atmosphere in Eden.  Being a leader for the wharf’s extension to allow more cruise liners to dock in Eden’s port, Jenny wasn’t concerned about the town losing its charm (Another plug for a future article about the cruise ship industry!).

She said, “We’ve been a forgotten goldmine down here.”  And she was absolutely correct…

A Walk In The Woods™

Yes, “woods” are not depicted in the picture above, nor is anyone walking through such a place.  However, the title fits the adventure that six of us undertook on a sunny but cool day in the small town of Eden. 

To continue the trend of non-conformity with the title, we weren’t as entirely unprepared for our adventure as the two men who hiked the Appalachian Trail.  Yet, the little coastal walk we followed was both challenging and beautiful.

Our story begins at the Eden Killer Whale Museum near the Fresnel lens of the non-operational lighthouse.  Tricia Lamacraft, a 67-year-old volunteer at the museum, pulled a map of Eden off of a stoop.  She whipped open to the map and declared, “The Bundian Way walk is one of my favorites and it doesn’t take that long.”

So, as eager travel writers waiting to get the next best place to write about, we set off to walk part of the trail.  The entire trail spans to the mountains near Eden, so we already knew that we didn’t want to journey that far.  Still, we didn’t know what our pack of six was getting into.

Finding the Bundian Trail was half the challenge.  A walk towards where the trail was supposed to start did provide views of the sailboats docked in Twofold Bay, but through a wired fence.  Further down the road, an access path could be seen but appeared as though for a truck or ATV.  But, we went up the steep pathway anyway. 

Steep is too kind of a word for this road.  It was more like a climb up a sheer mountain cliff. 

A few slips and slides because of loose gravel later, Eliza Sullivan asked, “Are we in someone’s backyard?”  As it turned out, we were. 

The gravel turned into soggy grass, mixed with deep mud pits.  Instead of slogging through the deep woods in search of a path, we went through the yard towards a paved road. 

After about ten minutes of walking along the road towards the coast, we once again arrived at a dead end.  Luckily, trampled grass appeared in someone’s yard and we set off on an adventure to find this mysterious Bundian Trail.

Long strands of grass transitioned into a dirt footpath, which led towards a beach.  Of course, when the six of us appeared onto the sands, so did a parking lot with a road leading down to it.  But we persevered from our dejection to continue on the actual Bundian Way (with signs this time). 

A few climbs up precipitous hills, some elongated steps, and a metal grilled bridge later, we arrived at another beach facing the bay.  After watching the waves lap onto the shore, we decided to head back towards Eden’s main street. 

What most visitors don’t realize about Eden at first glance is the sheer number of hills it has.  San Francisco would be jealous.  But, after a few breathless climbs and about 45 minutes, we approached Eden’s main drag with shops and cafés. 

After around 80 floors climbed and 7 miles walked, we turned into our apartments at Eagle Heights exhausted.  A bed never felt so good.

What I have failed to mention in this entire ordeal is what made it all worthwhile: the view.  Once we found our way onto the actual Bundian Trail, the picturesque Twofold Bay didn’t disappoint.  I can’t put the views into words, so I’ll leave you with these pictures…

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A Morning Worth Remembering

It’s hard to imagine a better morning than a beach sunrise.

Of course the words, “I could probably ride it” coming from Kathryn Radin while an Irish wolfhound walked its owner towards the café, came very close. 

You put the two of them together, and you get one of the best mornings a traveller in Australia could have.

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Getting up at 6:15am doesn’t sound appealing to most college students.  However, for some crazy reason, when the sun rose over the Pacific Ocean in Australia, nine study abroad travelers were silently sitting on the sands of North Broulee Beach.  Only the sound of waves lapping onto the shore and the occasional camera shutter could be heard. 

A quick walk down the beach proved fruitful results for the casual photographer.  While the sun was hiding behind a line of trees from the inlet cove, a walk around the bay to the very edge showed rays glinting off of tide pools.  The orange glow illuminated the tree line and black rocks that stood as the only defense from the waves crashing onto the small line of sand. 

Again the classic Australian staple, kangaroos, appeared in the form of tracks in the gritty sand.  Yet, the birds were the only wildlife alive and present as the sun rose.  The piercing cries from the bright red and yellow feathers welcomed all visitors to their habitat in the tall gum trees near the beach. 

However, as with all sunrises, the beautiful rays of orange and red did not last forever.  Luckily for those nine students, the morning’s adventure did not end with the beach’s sunrise. 

Mossy Café must be the dog central of Broulee.  Dogs of every shape and size, ranging from small horses to puppies the size of your hand, run around the picnic tables.  But the dogs are not the only reason for going to this popular local brekkie spot. 

Food of all types can be found at Mossy, ranging from perfectly cooked eggs with crisp and chewy sourdough bread to meat pies covered with flaky pastry.  The coffee is strong, with a flare for the display with foam designs in bright blue cups (perfect of an Instagram picture). 

It’s hard to upgrade from a morning like that.  The nearby Mogo Zoo attempted to do so, but hand-feeding giraffes still does not compare to the landscape provided by the sunrise and the dog lovers heaven with fantastic food. 

But Mogo Zoo did provide the classic national wildlife just missed in the sunrise walk.  Because of course, a day in Australia would be incomplete without a Kangaroo…

 

Aussie’s America

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Who knew you could tour America in one day, and do so while halfway around the world. 

Sydney, Australia is known around the globe as an international city, encompassing people from all backgrounds into the bustling metropolis.  However, the diversity extends much farther than the reaches of the urban center, and doesn’t just stop with the people. 

Heading south along Australia’s coast for only 4 hours (all the way to Broulee), one can tour almost the entirety of the United State’s landscape.  From the waterways of Florida to the cliffs of the Northwestern shore, a country 15 hours by flight away from the US contains most of the beauty America has to offer.

The journey begins in the city of Sydney, where upon exit towards the suburbs, you arrive at the coastal suburbs of Florida.  Glimmering sailboats attached to moorings bob into view from small bridges that span the canals.  Docks reach out as to obstruct a direct path for anyone attempting to escape via the sea.  The red and beige houses never go above two stories, covered from the elements by clay tiles. 

From Florida, we transition to California.  Spanish-style homes change into the desert plains of small and white trees, like those of the dry desert near Joshua Tree National Park.  The bushes never grow above your knees, pricking anyone who dares to come near.  Visibility in the dry plains stretch to the rising jagged cliffs of the Rocky Mountains, shooting out of the ground to reach for the sky. 

Suddenly you appear in the town of Kiama, like a picture out of a tour book for the Northwest shoreline.  Cliffs drop towards the ocean below, limiting the sand to small strips of refuge for beachgoers.  Pine trees grow tall, providing shade and protection from the cool ocean wind.  The small shops and cafés on the main streets contain loyal patrons, even sitting outside with a cup of coffee on a cold day. 

Leaving the coastline, you are plunged into the rolling hills and pastures of upstate Vermont.  Princes Highway cuts into the mountains, with cows grazing in fields while haphazardly looking up from their meal towards the fast moving vehicles.  Fences slice the hills into large pieces, carefully dividing horses, cows, and property. 

Hitting every major corner of the United States, it can be easy to forget the flat plains of the Midwest.  Of course, as such an iconic American region, it is very hard to reproduce and thus Australia cannot.  But, Australians have many things that are iconic to their own country. 

One of the unique factors is the most obvious one: kangaroos.  Less obvious is the gum trees that create forests all around the Australian coast south of Sydney.  Instead of pine or oak trees stretching to create a canopy, Australia’s trees sprout thin and slick.  They create a light shade from their few leaves, sheltering animals and people alike from the sun’s strong rays. 

However many regions Australia may reproduce from the United States, it is still Australia.  Halfway around the world, there is nothing quite as beautiful as the “land down under.”

Especially the sunsets…