The locust massacre

Our stallion on four wheels had made it out of Exmouth safely. No wailing sirens chasing us down the deserted streets. Still, going into hiding for the night seemed like a good idea, you know, just in case. Cape Range National Park provided us with a legal camping-spot on the beach, looking out over a  gap in between two cliffs with the sea at our feet. We set up a camp-fire under the stars and truly felt like the luckiest bastards alive.

The next day we spent driving all day to Karijini National Park. A long but beautiful drive, until it happened, in the outback: the female monthly drama started. Dying of cramps, overwhelmed by the heat and flies in the back of the van, I tried as hard as I could to not think about it. To me, the worst thing that could happen, I mean, try and explain your mood swings to three guys. Suddenly the 20 flies that got trapped in the back of the van with me, were all I could see. Annoyed , angry and armed with a thong (Ozzie translation) they were the perfect outlet for venting my frustrations.

It got late and we found a quiet roadhouse to crash for the night. During the drive it was obvious we had hit some insects on the way. The headlights acted as an insect magnet and we had to stop sometimes to clear the victims off our front window. About half an hour before we got to the roadhouse, the splattering noise increased by the second. When we got out of the van it became clear why. Millions, I shit you not, millions of locusts! In the air, on the ground… stuck in my bikini top.  Screaming like a little girl… It was quite an impressive sight.

Witness the bastards.

Setting up camp was madness. We had to do it all in the dark because turning on the headlights meant a full-on locust attack from all angles. After the tent was set up, I walked over to the bathrooms to freshen up a little and wash away my moody attitude. Walking through the complete darkness, I suddenly realised the crunching under my feet definitely weren’t branches. It wasn’t until I switched on my phone to use as a torch and aimed it on the ground, that I realised I was walking on a thick layer of dead/half dead/alive locusts. The entire ground was covered in them! Ok, they were a bit annoying but I had no intention of killing them.. unlike flies, but that’s a different story. I was already halfway and stood there for a bit, grossed out and contemplating what to do. I really needed that bathroom! So I carefully walked on my tip-toes, hoping to avoid another massacre under my feet.

Guess what locusts attract? Yes! Frogs! Millions of them too! Fast food flying around, if I were a frog, I wouldn’t miss out. Frogs landing on my feet, sliding down my leg after an attempted hop, locusts covering everything, I finally made it to the bathroom. Opening that door felt like my personal Everest. Until I switched on the light and had a look inside. At least 30 frogs decorated the toilet bowl from inside out, dead and alive locusts, ants and spiders covered the entire little space, it was like insect heaven. The other frogs happily hopped around with their tongues sticking out, having something land on them every second. They must have felt like the luckiest bastards alive.

Remember the scene from ” Raiders of the Lost Ark”, with the snakes, and the one with the spiders? Well, this made Indiana’s adventures look like a walk in the park!

Great… now what? Nothing could cheer me up now. This whole ‘Living the Dream’ thing started to show some dark sides. I growled but started laughing out loud straight after. It’s just one of those days, might as well look on the bright side of it.

Insect mayhem like this also meant snakes. Someone once told me to stomp my feet around before squatting, to scare off any nearby snakes. Whether this is true or not, I didn’t care. Rather have myself look like a complete idiot than having a snake hanging from my bum. So thankfully in the complete darkness, I stomped around a little, took the risk and squatted down in the grass. Clutching a toilet roll in between my chest and chin, balancing on one hand and using my free hand to swat away any creepy crawlies from flying against my bum, or drowning. See, even I have a heart.

I tried to run back to the tent this time. It seemed I was the only one who had witnessed this crazy insect night, everyone had passed out.

“Welcome to Australia”.. I still hear Dick’s voice echoing in the back of my mind. Yeah..cheers mate.

Drive through? Crash through!

Again I would have started this post about how we just arrived in Exmouth and the beach was so pretty..which it was by the way..but I’m sure everyone gets that by now. So I’ll leave that out but just to give you a mental image of Exmouth beaches:

Clear Blue

Turquoise Bay

I know right?:) Even though it was absolutely heaven to see, Ben was a little annoyed there were no waves. Oh well, even in heaven you can’t have it all.

The evening started surprisingly enough by watching the guys doing the push-up sessions to even out the testosterone levels. Yawn.. We hadn’t found a place to sleep yet and had seen one camp-site but it would be a bit of a mission to get in there unnoticed. We parked on a big parking-lot nearby to have a meal, when I noticed a restaurant. An Italian restaurant, with luscious pizza’s and mozzarella salad starters. Dribbling at the thought of sinking my teeth into the worlds’ best food, I grabbed Ben and dragged him into the restaurant. Mark and Dick gave it a miss. Who does that? It was worth the money alright. Ben and I had a great chat and he even paid a little towards it. (His budget for the next three days, bless him.) After that the four of us hung out on the parking-lot discussing burps, farts and god knows what, when it became time to figure out what to do for a sleeping spot.

Driving around the camp-site we found a fence. A removable fence. If you get what I’m saying.. Mark and Dick got a sneaky smile on their faces as Ben and I hid in the back under blankets hoping this was going to go alright. We drove right onto a perfect little spot to park the car and we set up tent as if we had been there all day. Obviously people had seen us. After a while a blond, long dread-locked-haired guy came up. (Picture the typical, surfer dude, who speaks slow as if he has been smoking weed all day) ” Man,.. you can’t just drive through the fence, man. That’s not cool man.” We promised him we were going to see reception in the morning. Laughing our asses off after he walked off. Hippy surfer dude. Muahaha.

Well, you can guess what happened in the morning. It sort of went like this. After showering and up-dating my diary, Dick came up and told us we had to get out now. We had taken too much time getting our stuff together, reception was open and hippy surfer dude was on to us. We packed up like crazy and got into the van. I’ve never been  more happy for it to actually start in one go. Suddenly Mark told us to hold on tight and started revving up. “What are you doing?!” I yelled at him. ” We don’t have time to move the fence, just hold on!” he yelled back. We flew forward and before I knew it we burst through the fence, loudly skidding before speeding off as if we had just robbed a bank.

We all laughed and screamed for ages. Still can’t believe we did that. We quickly got some food for the night and drove off out of public places where we could be recognised. The next thing we’ll be hitting, is a pillow!

 

Road Surfing

It’s funny, I rung up Dick the other day on some details from one of our nights on the trip. “Do you know we have not had one single, normal day on our trip?” I asked him. We laughed. “But that’s what made it so memorable!” he replied. Ahh..if only we could do it all again.

Our second morning in Kalbarri, Dick woke up with horrible back pain. He could not sit up or move one bit. Without breakfast, we packed up and drove to the nearest chiropractor, hoping this guy had a few minutes for an emergency treatment. Ben and Mark carried him in, it turned out the chiropractor did have time and Dick was helped straight away. A bit later he came out walking by himself looking much better. His back had been cracked and patched up with this special band-aid thing on his back. No movement for Dick today, which meant only one thing…Beach day!!

Red bluff was meant to be a beautiful beach and oh my was it! Again, not a soul in sight, my favourite thing about Australia,- paradise to yourself. The surf was incredible. (By now I’d actually become good at recognising what good surf is and what’s not) While Dick and I spent the afternoon on our backs in the sand, Mark and Ben were out in the waves all day. Every now and then we’d cheer them on from the beach and took some really good photos. On the way back they couldn’t stop talking about the surf, as if they were two little 5 year olds coming back from a party. Later on, Ben confessed that he hadn’t surfed for years. He had surfed since he was a little boy, until a few years ago, he had an accident and had almost drowned. He said he is lucky to be alive and unfortunately that accident had stopped him from getting back on his board. It was only a month ago he had tried it again. This day had been a milestone for him.

Ben surfing

X marks the spot

We had a great spaghetti dinner in the park. Convincing the guys that adding capers and cheese to the kind of bland sauce would really make a change, I think this must have been my best meal so far. That, noodles for lunch or a sick sandwich (Ben’s name for my mashed avocado on bread lunch special) were the only contents on my travel menu. Capers were a well enjoyed luxury.

No one noticed us, or came up to ask us if we had paid, so until that happened we stayed on the same camp-site again. At one point a guy from the van parked up next to us, came over and asked if he could use our power-point to change his phone. “Haha, sure mate, it’s free for us too.” He introduced himself as Jacob, a guy from Denmark, travelling together with his friends Martin and Ingelise (a.k.a. Lisa) up the west coast too. They seemed really cool so we joined them with our goon and our Moby filled Ipod. While we were all busy talking, this huge greenish shooting star shot over the sky. (Cheesy but amazing) It was an awesome sight! Never again have I seen such a big or bright shooting star. It’s hard for me to describe the atmosphere of this day, as I think it was just how we all felt together that made it such a memorable day. That good, that now, 3 years later, we still rave about it.

After a great night meeting new friends, we said our goodbye’s in the morning while we left for Pink lake in Port Gregory. (The pink colour is due to algae) Oh it was pink alright. Bright, raspberry pink. quite a crazy sight, something you’d only see in cartoons. Unfortunately it didn’t taste as good as it looked. Yes, sadly we tried. On our way again, we made stops at most of the cliff views around Kalbarri, which were as amazing as we had heard.

Island rock, Kalbarri

Pink Lake

 

Dick in Pink

People on the way had told us Monkey Mia was the bees knees. “A small place, but great for spotting dolphins and amazing beaches’. Alright that sounded awesome, let’s go there! 380 km’s later it was starting to get dark and we decided to stop in Denham for a free night. We got up at the crack of dawn to drive on to Monkey Mia, but got a bit delayed after Dick realised after 40 km’s he had left his phone charging at the camp-site in Denham. Shit! We did a u-turn and speeded back. Reception had opened by now but no one asked questions when Dick walked past and finding his phone still in the same spot. Alright,..back on the road again.

Monkey Mia Resort had an entrance fee of $6 a person and I think because of that we expected quite a bit. Sadly is was extremely touristic and seemed more like a zoo. The dolphins were indeed free but because of standard feeding times, it might as well have been a zoo. Within two hours we left again. Carnarvon (what the hell) was our next stop. Haha well pit-stop really. This place seemed so dull we left again immediately after a quick lunch, making it all the way to Coral bay. Now there’s paradise on earth!

Coral bay is the definition of what those postcards look like when somebody goes on a exotic holiday and wants to rub it in that you aren’t there. All of us were just stunned by the amazing little place. Whale-sharks, snorkelling and mantra rays, this was going to be an amazing few days. It was to early to sneak onto a camp-site, so we had a BBQ. Or well,.. there was already a party going on, we sort of just joined in to use the BBQ and enjoy their music, they didn’t seem to mind:) We had a great night hanging out with a two French guys we met they were flat broke and explained how to steal food in exchange for us telling them how to get free accommodation. Backpackers have each others back They taught me how to say “Qui va à la chasse perd sa place, qui va à la pêche, la repêche.” It means something like ‘He who leaves his seat, loses it’. Random, I know. The thing is, when you travel, everybody teaches you the most rude or strange words in various languages. I never remember a thing but this, I strangely remember. Oh and some German swear words I won’t repeat here. The six of us headed to our new free accommodation. More exploring tomorrow…

BBQ Coral Bay

Extreme camping

To me, road-trips are the best part of travelling. Getting lost or stuck is just part of the fun, even if it doesn’t seem to be that funny at the time. My last road-trip was with a friend through France and Spain in 2006. I had then insisted on sleeping in hotels with a 3 meals a day buffet and having the ocean no further than a 200 meter walk. My good friend Tim had tried to convince me to go camping, but just the idea of it made me shiver. I used to be the girl who would take 5 different kinds of shampoo along with her on a midweek holiday. You never know… Or would never leave the house without looking like I had a red carpet event to go to.

Now, here I was lying in the back of a van that did not ensure my life safety, stuck in between various sized backpacks, a stolen duvet and a few surfboards. Trying to lie as still as I could to avoid more sweating and prevent even more flies from attempting to fly into my ears and nostrils. Flies are the worst thing on the west coast, they are absolutely everywhere and will not leave you alone for a second. No more red-carpet-event-looks here, I couldn’t even remember, or care for that matter, how long it had been since I had changed my clothes. It had all come down to the simple sniff-test in the morning. Welcome to the real world.

Lancelin sunset

A long drive from Albany to Perth and beyond was on the agenda today and I drew the shortest straw to ride in the back. We all took turns as it was the worst place to be while driving long distances. No air-conditioning, even with the front windows down, we could hardly feel the breeze. Putting up with this heat made all the pit-stops more worth it. We made it all the way to Lancelin, a small surf-town just past Perth. Watching windsurfers in action and dolphins swimming past with the sun setting on the horizon, quickly made me forget about the sweaty trip up. From there we found a little pizza place stating they had ‘The best pizza in Australia’. Haha sure they were.. It had been a long day of driving over endlessly long roads and nobody could really be arsed to do any cooking. So why not try it out? It was great pizza, but I doubt they were the best in the country;)

Sleeping that night was a whole different story. It took us ages to find a good place to sleep. We drove around bushy, gravel roads just outside of Lancelin, trying to find somewhere where we wouldn’t be discovered by local rangers, but without any luck. All we did was get lost because it was too dark to see where we were going or where we came from. Eventually we pulled over and got out to get and idea of our whereabouts, when Mark spotted a scorpion. The thing was no larger than my hand and I still wonder to this day how he managed to see it in the dark. None of us had ever seen one before so it was really exciting. I can imagine not everyone gets excited about seeing a scorpion, as they’re not the cuddliest creatures, but still, a scorpion! Guys don’t always lose their childhood instincts in the process of growing up and neither did Mark, Dick and Ben. Before I knew it they were poking it with sticks to see how angry it would get. Really angry, surprisingly. Barefoot they jumped around, avoiding this menace trying to sting them. It was sort of entertaining, but I really had to put a stop to it when they caught it in a bucket and wanted to keep it. Seriously guys? Great idea, until we hit a bump, the bucket tips over and we have a scorpion on the loose in the van. It took some convincing, but eventually they let it go. Boys..*rolling eyes*

We ended up on a lay-by next to the highway. I will not complain, because at the end of the day, all we needed was to sleep but this night made me beg for a proper bed. The gravel that pierced through the foam mattress that we slept on wasn’t our worst concern. The strong wind was our real enemy. It was so bad that the side of the tent kept hitting our faces. We tried to stop it by stacking all our belongings against the side of the tent but the wind became so strong, that the whole thing almost went flying. The only thing keeping the tent in place was the weight of our bodies. Annoyed and getting very tired we tried our best to ignore the situation and sleep. Unfortunately ignoring it was impossible. We grunted and yelled at the wind hoping it would lessen soon, pulling the covers over our heads to block out the noisy bully. It wasn’t till 4 am, that we got the very clever idea to move the tent behind the van and use it as a windshield. Very clever indeed. It actually helped a lot and we got a little bit of sleep in the end. Mark and Dick had not noticed a thing…

The next day was the only time I actually enjoyed lying in the back. Even Ben joined me to catch up on sleep. A blissful 297 km’s to go till Geraldton to go.

The calm morning after

Bare bottoms and crushing waves

After quite an amusing drive down and darkness setting in, we had a little break in the tiniest of tiny towns. (Name unknown..) “Tiny” referring to a deserted 400m long street in the middle of the bush, consisting of a local pub, bakery and a worn-out looking police station. I always wonder what people do here for a living, or just do at all in general. Getting out for a leg stretch and a sandwich, the guys took turns in using the beautiful outdoors as a toilet. There are times I truly wish I had a penis. Refusing to squat down in between two cars in a public area, I walked over to the pub across the street to use some real world facilities. The quiet and empty streets had an eerie feel to them and soon I found out why. Everyone had gathered in the pub to watch the game. As I swung open the door, about 20 heads turned my way. 20 shabby and dodgy-looking figures, staring at me without a greeting or a smile.  I stood there for a few seconds muttering a friendly hello, which wasn’t returned. They just continued to stare in silence. Not wanting to show any signs of discomfort, I almost ran over to the toilets in the far corner, pushing the door shut with my feet as an extra lock while I peed. Nothing really happened but it just felt very creepy and I didn’t feel safe at all. After that I walked out as fast as I could leaving 20 heads still staring behind me. Wow that was weird. Apparently it wasn’t just me who had noticed the Deliverance like set in this town. When I got back, the guys were sitting in the car ready to go, saying something about strange figures walking past. We drove off before I had even closed the door.

The next day the guys were determined to get a surf in somehow. We drove to the Albany I-centre (information centre) for a map on the area and some advice on good surf-spots. The lady behind the desk laughed out loud. “Anyone who goes out today has a death-wish!” she said. “You’d be a right nutter to go surfing today”. Well, that was enough to get Mark and Ben down there straight away. The beach was just down from this massive cliff. From the top we could see what the lady meant. Really heavy waves. But instead of getting worried they all got even more excited. When we got down on the beach it became clear what the conditions were really like. At least 6 meter high waves, crushing everything in their path. I’ve never seen anything like it. We all just stood there for a while in awe before Mark and Ben got their gear ready and took on this monstrosity of waves. The photo doesn’t capture the reality, but just to give you an idea.

Albany beach

For two hours, Dick and I just watched from the beach ready for the shit to hit the fan. Already discussing first-aid basics because if something should go wrong we would be in deep shit. There was no-one else on the beach and the way back was at least 200 steps up a cliff. Finally Ben came out. Utterly exhausted from the extensive paddling, he started to signal to Mark to get out. He swore he had seen a shark. The sea had also been too strong to make it out to the waves, so all together it was enough for today! Secretly I was a bit relieved. I like a risk every now and then, but this was indeed pretty mental. Or maybe I’m just too much of a pussy for this kind of stuff

I turned out not to be the only person lacking testosterone that day. The guys had a highly amusing afternoon on the beach with and without wetsuits. Travelling with 3 guys does have its perks.

Beach Bums

Sometimes it almost felt like it was their mission to do something reckless and stupid every day. I loved it though. We had found a Laundromat in the centre and wet clothes were now hanging out to dry in the back of the van on our home-made rope drying rack. Having fresh, clean clothes is one thing, but our body odour was another. We hadn’t showered in almost a week. Of course I managed the occasional freshening up in public toilet sinks. Using a wet towel as a wash cloth and the sink as a footrest while I shaved my legs. Very useful skills ladies . But when it comes down to it, sharing enclosed spaces with 3 smelly guys is too much sometimes. The I-centre had closed for the day but the toilet block next to it had been left open. The idea was to pay $2 at the desk and receive a key to unlock the shower door. Or…the alternative of jumping over the door and unlocking it from the inside seemed more appealing. Woohoo free showers!!:) The perfect ending to our day, washed down with some burgers and goon by a camp-fire.

Tomorrow: cliff jumping anyone?!

 

 

And then there were four..

The vast majority of backpackers struggle for money. Fact. Broke, flat broke, we take on the most ridiculous jobs to make some cash or simply beg the parents to please send over another $50 so we can eat tomorrow. I had been lucky my first part of my trip. The euro had been so strong, I could spend and spend but the amount on my account would hardly decrease. I shared costs with two others and our amazing van could drive on gas, which halved even the pricey fuel costs. We also ate as cheap as possible and sometimes, we were lucky enough to get away with sleeping for free at camp sites. Otherwise we’d sleep out in the bush somewhere. So I can’t say I was really struggling at that point in time.

Still in Margaret river, enjoying beach and life’s perks with the other crew we met down in Perth, one person seemed a bit down. Turned out Ben had a bit of a story playing on his mind. He had left Wales for a change of scenery and had moved to Melbourne. During his 6 months there, he unfortunately was the witness of a horrible crime. The suspects were aware of what he had seen and were afraid he’d turn them in. So they tried do track him down and called him up to scare him with death-threats on a daily basis. He didn’t feel safe and was forced to move somewhere as far away from Melbourne as he could. He came to Perth to find his close friend Owen and go from there. Now in Margaret river without a job and money flowing faster than expected, he was down to his last $200. Not only that, but the people looking for him seemed to have found out where he was and he had to move on quickly.

He decided to do what all desperate backpackers do, farm-work. Hard work and long days, but most of the time you could get your accommodation and meals for free and pay was not always that bad. I went along with him to find job agencies and notice boards. We walked all over Margaret river, going in and out of job agencies but no one could really help us. The fruit picking season had just finished in this part of Australia and we would have more luck trying up north or east. Finally one lady gave us a list of phone numbers from farms possibly needing work. I told Ben I’d try and help him as much as I could. We found a shady spot in the park and both worked our way down the list, ringing absolutely everyone on it. Not much going on at any of them so far and you could see Ben’s hope just evaporating from his face. Until we found this one farm in Broome. They wanted him and if he could be there as fast as he could, that would be great. I had never heard of Broome and imagined it to be this small speck of dullness out in the bush somewhere. We looked it up and it was about 3000 km north from where we were. His face dropped again. How was he going to get there with only $200? His dad seemed keen to help him out but just simply didn’t have the money.

That night Dick and Mark said that we would probably head off tomorrow. I explained the situation Ben was in to them. They had gotten on great with each other, so I asked them if it would be a good idea to take him with us. “Yeah, why not? The more the merrier!” The next day I told Ben my idea. He sounded really excited, but also a bit in doubt. He had no money to burn and didn’t want to be dependent on us. He also wasn’t sure if he wanted to leave his friend behind. Fair enough. I left him to think about it, but did mention that we would be leaving this afternoon. After buying our supplies and getting the van ready to go and still no sign of Ben, we came to the conclusion he wouldn’t come along. I wrote him a note and stuck $200 in it. John was hanging out with us at that point and I gave it to him, saying not to hand it to Ben till we had left. Naive maybe, but I just really wanted to help in some way. I never knew if I was going to get it back one day, but at least this way, I knew he wouldn’t starve to death.

As we were packing up the last bits and pieces into the van Ben rocked up with the news he wanted to come. Such good news. Not only would he be getting to Broome, he’d also see the whole west coast of Australia! We grabbed his stuff from the hostel and I got my note back from John. Not mentioning the whole thing to Ben. We explained to him he didn’t have to worry about money. We were however, heading south for a bit first, before driving up to Broome. This was still our big trip and we weren’t going to rush it. He understood and said he had already called the farm to let them know it might take a little while longer. We said our goodbye’s to the rest of the group and set off to the next, unknown destination. Three guys now, what had I gotten myself into?;)

On the way..

Wrong turns with a twist.

The big road trip had begun. For some very strange reason (influenced by an overload of partying) we decided to drive at night. But after a few hours of driving we pulled over at a servo (service station) so Mark could knock back some iced coffee to stay awake. “We won’t be driving much longer” he said. Fair enough, we all looked a bit worn out from the last week. Not too long after, we came across a little place called Bunbury. Too tired to find a proper camping spot, we pulled up on a cinema parking-lot. As Dick an I were getting ready to sleep on the comfy mattress, Mark prepared for a night sleeping in the front. I felt bad. The guy is huge and there was no way I could see him sleeping there. I even offered to share the mattress with the two of them or sleep in the front myself. But he insisted on sleeping there, horizontally, poke sticking in his bum and everything.

Waking up early by the sun is amazing…well, in most cases. Whilst sitting in the sun and writing in my diary a bit on the pavement, people started to arrive at what seemed to be a little shopping centre nest to the cinema. After a few strange looks from shoppers my way, I knew it was time to get a move on. I woke up the guys and got ready to go. All good, until it became clear that the van didn’t want to start… at all. Ok, I do have to admit, our van looked pretty old and beaten up. It was cheap as chips to buy but seemed in great state. Apart from that every so often the engine would throw out a loud bang every so often. We didn’t really know what to do about it and just ignored it after a while. (I know what you are thinking) We thought pushing it might help start it up again. For about half an hour we ran up and down the parking lot pushing the van all over the place, without any success. Thankfully, some guy named Digby came over with his Ute and offered to help us with his jumper leads. Friendly old guy with a very strong accent and didn’t seem hassled at all by our misfortune. Our van started again straight away. We thanked him and he invited us to stay at his farm in Manjimup. Who knew, we might need help again in the future and I took his number. We kept the motor running and drove as far as we could. Fingers crossed that it would continue working now.

Alright, off to Margaret river again, which is more of a challenge that you can imagine. At least, for us it was. Somehow we took a wrong turn somewhere and ended up driving inland instead of along the coast. Turned out better than we thought. Beautiful forests with enormous trees and the most stunning views all around. No other passing cars in sight for miles and my first experience of how deafening silence can be. We made some extra stops enjoying our wrong turn, our ears ringing from the silence, while looking out over incredible landscapes. Augusta was going to be our next stop for the night. We found a perfect little grassy patch next to the beach to set up the tent. I remember chatting for ages and stargazing till we fell asleep.

Waking up this time was a bit of a different story. The sea on your doorstep is an incredible experience. But the beauty of it all faded a bit when I woke up in excruciating pain, thinking all I needed was a pee, badly. Finding a nice shrub and squatting down… as you do, to get it over with before the guys would wake up. Crying in pain and biting down on the toilet roll, something seemed off. (For anyone planning a road trip like this: How sophisticated you might be, when you gotta go, you gotta go! I was still getting used to this strange, slightly embarrassing outdoor ritual myself.) But this wasn’t the solution, in fact it got worse. By the time we had breakfast, I was white as a ghost begging for painkillers. Trying to sit still and calm myself with deeply focussed breathing. Augusta is tiny. If you were driving and blinked your eyes, you’d have missed it. Luckily no matter how small towns are, they usually do have a doctor. The guys found one for me in a matter of minutes. I thought it would be more complicated, being a foreigner and not having Australian healthcare. But all I had to do was fill in a form with some details and a doctor was with me in no-time. Happy to find out it only did take a few minutes, I was ready to strangle someone if it had taken longer. Apparently everything can be fixed with antibiotics and by the end of the day I was feeling back to normal again.

Later that day we finally arrived in Margaret river. A small town famous for it’s winery’s. And celebrities! We ran into the Brazilian, world record-holding lady of the most body piercings. Hardly recognisable face from all the steel, she was very kind and interested in our trip. And as annoying but amazed passers-by we simply had to ask her for a photo. She told us that she was used to it and loved the interest in her passion.

I had been messaging Ben for the last few days and a few people from the Perth hostel and himself just arrived in Margaret river too. Great news for all of us, as they are such a fun bunch to hang out with. It was getting a little late and after Mark made us some spaghetti on our little compact stove for dinner in the park, we figured it was time for a shower. But where? Well, Mark and Dick have been doing this backpacker thing for a while now and they basically did what they always do: Break into a caravan park, have a shower and then run. It had been a few days and who am I to complain about what’s right or wrong? It had gotten dark already and we snuck into one of the camp-sites with a closed reception desk. Usually reception closes around 7 or 8, so there are no questions asked when you walk in. After not having any form of personal hygiene for a while, a shower is better than anything. We all took our time refreshing. Well, time, 15 minutes after I had finished my ridiculously long shower, I was still waiting on the guys. (What do they do in there?!) At this point one of the owners came over and had figured out what was going on. She started yelling at me and telling me to get out straight away or she would call the police. Oooohh shit..The thing is, I don’t have a drivers license. I couldn’t go anywhere even if I wanted! I tried to explain this while giggling to myself, but it only infuriated her more. When the guys came out we ignored her yelling, jumped in the car and raced of laughing but clean. I know, not very polite of us, but we got what we came for.

That night I stayed at the hostel with Ben and the guys found a spot to stay somewhere without too many people around. An amazing sleep after such a hectic day. Tomorrow would just be beach and relaxing,..I hope.

Beach, bars and bacon.

After one of those nights of hostel hanging Sie Germans (4 massive guys), Dick and I thought it would be a good idea to do something useful and get the early ferry to Rottnest Island.

For the people who have been there, have heard how amazing it is, or have actually seen how amazing it is and the stories of people who still rave on about it,…don’t get your hopes up. We missed it. And yes, I am aware what a shame this is. But you try and wake up 5 hung over guys at 6 am. I kicked, screamed and yelled at them how I knew this was going to happen. But by the time I scrambled them together, all of them had half an hour shower each and we broke most speed limits, we could see the people on the ferry wave at us merrily as they sped off. Since this day people just randomly tell me how great Rottnest island was when they went there, everywhere I go. The guys were in too much pain to care and we left for Scarborough beach instead.

See I’m from Holland, where the murky brown/greyish water is considered a nice day at the beach. You’re lucky that on a hot summers day, you only share the beach with 1,5 million other people. Hoping that the temperature change in the water is indeed related to sun and not because the mass needed a pee to avoid the 50ct toilet charge. But this beach here, WOW! The bluest water I have ever witnessed and such fine, almost white sand. Amazed by the view, Dick came up and said this was nothing compared to what we were going to see. Even better beaches? I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

Later that day I finally met the Mark at the hostel. He heard Dick and I were heading up the coast and he couldn’t resist coming.

*Dick and Mark met in Cairns previously and they travelled through New Zealand together.

Mark is from a very small famous town in Holland with an accent to match. Very easy going. So easy, that at first I thought he was just holding back with interfering in our trip plans. But turned out he really was not fussed about anything. He had saved up everything he had for the last 5 years for this trip and literary had all the time in the world. We met so many awesome people that week, I wish everyone could have come.

The car had been fixed and it was time to go. Our last night the whole hostel group went out to ‘The Shed’. A little Australian style club favoured by backpackers. What started as a quiet one out, ended in an all nighter with just one hour sleep. I found out that Dick had taken my bed together with two other girls. Good for him, not so good for me. That bed was mine too and I sat outside for ages hoping he would be finished by now, finding out later they had all fallen asleep. GGRRRR! But what can you do? Ben was still up, so we got some Hungry Jacks (Australian version of Burger King) for breakfast and I dragged him along to see the sunrise over the Swan river. He gave me this ” Are you insane?!” look at first, but came with me anyway ( It’s romantic! Just go with it for crying out loud) Sunrises are my favourite thing in the world next to star gazing. They will always be there to watch, but still every sunrise is more unique than the last. This one was particularly special because it was my first sunrise in Australia and I got to share it with Ben. Who I really fancied the shit out of at that time. Had revised this cheesy gesture and decided it wasn’t too bad at all. I dare to say, I think he enjoyed it. He brought his guitar, I brought my camera and we enjoyed our greasy breakfast talking about all kinds of things. Walking back to his room singing along to crappy, soppy songs on my Ipod. Aaahh the cute brief romance during hostel life. All worth feeling like absolute shite the next day.

That night we packed up the van and had a big leaving bbq with everyone we met that week in the park before we left. Very sad for me. This was my first time in saying goodbye’s. I feel a bit embarrassed looking back on this night now. There I was, balling my eyes out over people I had met a week ago. But then again some people can make such a difference in your life. And funnily enough, I am still in touch with almost all of them. But now it was time to really hit the road.

P-Town

Meet Dick: No, it is not short for Richard, a complete chick magnet, personal trainer, definition of ‘no worries’ attitude towards every aspect in life, loves a good bag of goon to start the night. Can be found: Sleeping at any given time, lying on the beach or any other activity performed horizontal.

(Goon: A silver sack filled with cheap wine which is found within a cardboard box. Drunk by youths in Australia due to its low cost however it promotes vomiting due to its awful taste. But gets you absolutely plastered, which is the main idea.) 

Meet Mark: Tall, big and broad, surfer-dude, the life of any party, makes a mean spag boll, will put his life at risk for a good adrenaline rush, finished off with a big Maori shoulder tattoo. Note: Does a great impression of the Maori war chant: The Haka.

Meet Ben:Welsh born surfer, comes out of his shell after a few Strongbow beers, funniest guy you’ll ever meet, lives in his hardly washed army shorts. His only belongings: Surfboard, Superbad DVD, a phone and super-glue. Will also refer to Mark and Dick as “gay”, as they shave more than the average girl.

Perth: Hot, chilled out and therefore my favourite city in Australia. It has the atmosphere of any Caribbean bar on the beach, and everything feels even more laid back than in other Australian cities.

The van Dick had bought the previous week had been smashed in at night, so he got some Germans he met at the hostel to pick us up from the airport. Before I could even say hi, we got chucked into the back of this massive, completely decked out 4wd. This car was amazing, it had absolutely everything on it. He was looking to sell it, but the price was about my entire 3 month savings for the trip. Oh well, keep on dreaming. On the way to the hostel we had made a small stop at the bottle-o. Drive through liquor stores, what a way to integrate. Captivated and excited we drove on to what would be my first, hostel experience. It looked fine from the outside. Small, yellow building in the centre of Northbridge. Dick warned me about the state of the hostel and even though I was a little girl, I’d better not be afraid of insects. Spiders would be the least of my worries. Great..

Stepping over a few dead hand-sized cockroaches and wading ourselves through other people’s mess in the dorm room, we found our bunk bed reeking of last nights dinner and alcohol breath. And a big fan standing in the middle of it, that was meant to cool it down a bit, did nothing but just blow the stink around the roasting hot room. Not to worry, I was still excited. This is the moment when Dick decided to inform me that I shouldn’t hang around the reception desk too much in case they asked questions. “What questions?” I asked suspiciously. Apparently the hostel had been booked out for ages and so we had to share a bed and stay incognito or otherwise risking sleeping on the street. All of this was mentioned under a take it or leave it way of speaking and I was too tired to care. What did it matter anyway? I was in Australia

That evening I got introduced to backpacker food. In other words, eat as cheap as you can and share it with as many people as possible to keep the costs low. Most of the time this consisted of spaghetti and tomato sauce, rice with any given sauce or one minute noodles which comes in five packs for $0,80. Not to mention any form of canned food, but that usually only happens when you are really out of cash. Hunger is the best sauce they say… After that, people start to gather around the common area, which was an outside area with two very large picnic tables, a ping-pong table and a vending machine. MGMT was playing from someone’s Ipod and more goon-boxes got whacked on the table with every person’s arrival. In Holland it is not always that easy to walk up to strangers and start talking about random stuff, but here it didn’t matter one bit. Everyone’s your mate, as someone once told me. The best way to start a conversation will notoriously always be the: “Where are you from? How long have you been here? Where have you been?” questions. Which will usually lead to the most fascinating travel stories of fellow travellers. This time, thank god for those opening lines, because I had no idea how to do this. About 20 people were already busy getting a pre-party started when I walked up. Dick got up and said ” This is my friend Ainslie, she just arrived a few hours ago” and left me to it.

The first person to talk to me other than the Germans from that afternoon, was Ben. He was Welsh and had come to Perth to meet up with his hometown friend Owen (who looks remarkably like Spike from the movie Notting Hill). After working for a few months he decided to come travelling too. We chatted for ages and through him I got talking to everyone. I felt like I had made 20 new friends in a few hours. Although, after all that goon everyone had drunk, they’d probably have become friends with anyone who had started talking to them. But still, even Dick mentioned he was surprised I was so easy-going. Everyone went out clubbing around 12, and I stayed behind to try and get into Australia time.

Day one of three months, ticked off.

The Guys: Ben, Mark, John and Dick

All stories start somewhere

So there I was at 16. School was not working out the way I planned and unlike the other 80% of the world population, I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up. Or what I wanted from life at all for that matter.

The one thing I was sure of was that to me, this whole settling down with the perfect job, big house, lots of babies and then maybe a dog to complete the family portrait, seemed very dull. I always had the feeling we were made to think that we needed to accomplish certain things in life in order to be happy…or else. Up until then I had the feeling I was on my own with this opinion and felt a bit out of place. So whatever I was going to do now, had to be something extreme. Something that broke all of society’s expectations and life’s easy comfort zone.

Around this time I met a lovely, blonde Ozzie chick in my year. She was as bubbly as bubbly you can be, we became friends instantly and soon skipped classes for coffee, cigarettes and heavy discussions on the pros and cons of life. One day she started telling me about her plan to do a round-trip through Australia and if I felt anything for coming along too. At this point I had not even considered travelling. But from that day, the idea got stuck in my head. No, not stuck, jammed. This was it. I started telling people this was what I was going to do and intended to leave any day soon.

Unfortunately the dream journey got delayed by the usual drama’s: lack of money, boyfriends and even my own apartment for a while. Until 6 years later, after I had just turned 22 and I lost my apartment, my job and my boyfriend in the same week, I finally got some sense knocked into me.

“Holy shit! I am only 22! What was I thinking!”

I got out a map of Australia and vaguely made a plan of attack for my three month holiday. At the same time I found out an old first crush (his name was Dick, we were 12, it was ridiculously cute and after my first kiss, it sadly only lasted a month) was already mucking about down under. Excited about his stories and experiences I rung him up for some advice. “Ains, are you serious? Come to Perth and meet me!” he said even more thrilled. As you do, we bought a van and the long dreamed-of trip started.

No idea what to expect and with a three month deadline, I arrived in Perth jet-lagged, sweaty and annoyingly smelly, but in absolute bliss.