Sighting North
Hard to believe this is the last one from way down south, but what a way to send it off.
As I sit here and write I’ve already left the southern hemisphere behind, the trade winds are blowing through the window and the Koolau Mountains rise like a green curtain outside of my window. It feels rather surreal actually. It’s hard to believe that our time away down south has already come to an end and that the next chapter, however long it proves to be, is already unfolding. But it’s been a long time since my last post and there is plenty of story to tell.
Just about one calendar month ago Meredith and I loaded up old faithful Dolores for one final grand road trip on up the Australian east coast. We’d seen most of Tassie and a good chunk of Victoria, but that’s barely scratching the surface as far as Australia is concerned, so we wanted to head out on the road and send things off properly by seeing a bit more of the countryside on our way out the door. As we’ve become so accustomed to we loaded all of our worldly possessions up and turned our sights north.
“We loaded all of our worldly possessions up and turned our sights north.”
Well not precisely north, after all this was to be a scenic trip. So we stuck to the coast as much as we could passing through parks and coastlands that, despite being squarely in the middle of Australia’s most populous region, felt another world away. Our first stop was the hard to spell and even harder to pronounce Croajingolong National Park which offered as good of secluded beach side camping as we’ve ever had. Plus in the morning a quick hike up through the bush brought us to the Thurra River Dunes, an expanse of rippling sand you would not expect to find in this lush corner of the world. From there we motored steadily along New South Wales’ stunning south coast with charming seaside towns in every bay and lighthouses dotting every headland. We had a ways to go though so we motored on until we reached the sanctuary of Kangaroo Valley, an untouched vale tucked just far enough off the edge of civilization for wildlife to roam free. They may call it Kangaroo Valley but it really was wombat city, as we set up the tent for the night we tried counting all of the little buggers we could see in the campground and stopped at 30 all peacefully munching away at the grass as the sun set.
That’s when the rain began. A big storm cell closed in on Sydney and much of the central coast promising nothing but chilly drizzle along the shores for several days, so we took our chances and boogied on up into the Blue Mountains just to Sydney’s west hoping some elevation would break up the clouds a bit and offer something other than monotonous rain. Well on the first night we had no luck, and with the rain coming down and a couple strong Belgian beers in the belly in the charming town of Leura I was only too eager to spring for a cheapo room for the night at a local inn to keep us out of the rain. And our gambit paid off. The next morning the clouds lifted enough for us to wander through some of the most famous sites in the Blueys. It’s largely a flat topped mountain range with the towns actually dotting some of the highest points, so when the clouds lifted we were greeted by expansive views looking down into verdant valleys.
“By now you can probably guess what we got up to amongst the vines.”
From there we stuck to the back roads and kept on north, winding through the eucalypts until we emerged in the heart of NSW’s main wine region, The Hunter Valley. By now you can probably guess what we got up to amongst the vines, even in the middle of “winter”. A bit of research and we found a guy who would rented us some beater bikes out of the back of an unmarked white van and we got to pedaling. The Hunter is an expansive area with what must be hundreds of different vineyards in it’s various areas, but with no particular agenda Meredith and I just whiled the day away cycling from cellar door to cellar door, imagining what it all would look like in the height of summer with proper vines and not just dry wine sticks, and enjoying the first day in months we actually felt inclined to wear shorts.
Our ultimate goal for the trip was to make it up to the legendary bohemian beachside paradise of Byron Bay, just near the northern border of the state so after our wine trip we got up bright and early and put the pedal to the metal. It’s a fair bit of distance up to Byron on what has to have been the most monotonous driving we’ve done in years with the freeway plunging dead ahead through the forest, scarcely bothering with the ins and outs of the central coast, but boy were we glad we made the effort. Byron wins renown for many reasons. It’s Australia’s easternmost point, a variety of beaches offer good surfing in almost any condition, it’s far enough north that it starts to feel truly tropical, but mostly the town is just one of those places that seems to attract every surf bum, working holiday maker, and fellow wanderer in the country. A perfect place for us to come and forget that our time was running short.
“This feels like the soul of Australia to me.”
That was to be the northern extent of our grand adventure and we had some friends to meet back in Sydney, but not before one final night on the road that seemed to encapsulate so much of what makes Australia an amazing place. Tucked away on the central coast this the excellently named Booti Booti National Park, it took us half an hour to get there off the freeway but we may as well have been on the edge of the earth. We camped among the shady trees with brush turkeys fluttering around our tent, and just over the dunes laid yet another expansive, wild, empty, unspeakably beautiful beach stretching as far as we could see. This feels like the soul of Australia to me, a beach that would be award-winning most other places in the world tucked away, unpeopled, and remarkable precisely because it isn’t remarkable. It’s just another beach in this land of wild beauty, and it’s yours to enjoy because the beaten path isn’t that big. Sitting in the sand watching the sun rise getting ready for what was sure to be a mad run into the next phase of our lives it felt like I’d come full circle, right back into the heart of the place, and that’s what I think will stick with me in the years that lie ahead.
In the moment though there was little enough time to wax poetic as we had a wide and wonderful harbor-side city to explore. It’s truly enough said that no trip to Aus is complete with out spending some time in Sydney, and we were lucky enough to have some friends to host us. You may recall from months ago that one of our roommates from Tassie was moving to the city when we all were leaving, and we finally got to cash in on the connection. What a way to go out too, a convenient place to stay and knowledgeable guides turned what could’ve been a bewildering couple of days into a sun drenched relaxing send off. In hindsight, I’m not so sure why we avoided Sydney as a longer term place to stay. It’s a beautiful town wrapped around a many-armed harbor where the locals are equally as likely to catch a ferry to work as a train. It may technically be a bit bigger than Melbs but doesn’t feel it when the water makes each neighborhood feel so unique. Of course we did the classics like having a beer at sundown by the Opera House and catching a ferry out to Manly beach, but it was the little local explorations we were able to do that really set things apart, visiting classic aussie pubs, finding the best fried chicken in town that really had all things looking rather rose colored.
“Adventure is where you seek it and I intend to keep on looking.”
And then just like that our bags were packed and we set off into the next chapter of our lives. Sydney to Honolulu is a surprisingly affordable 9 hour red eye, we landed on Oahu about two weeks ago and have set ourselves up to spend a couple months out here in Hawaii as we consider our next moves. Maybe it’ll be a quick couple months, maybe we’ll love it and stay longer, either way it certainly is nice not having to move after 6 months. I guess that’s the advantage of “home sweet home”. Looking forward things look more opaque as than ever. I’m not sure what will become of this blog. I’m not sure when we’ll come back state side. Heck I’m not even sure if I’ll stay in my new job. But hell, if I’ve learned one thing from these past years it’s that adventure is where you seek it and I intend to keep on looking.
Our Route
Through The Eucalypts
It’s been a game of making the most of things here down south as time has taken a positively frantic pace and our time in Melbourne comes to a close.
Well not to be too one-foot-out-the-door or anything, but holy mackerel this is the last blog post I’ll be writing from abroad. At least for the forseeable future. Our visas are up in September, and Meredith and I are officially booked on a flight to Oahu where we’ll set up shop for a bit and enjoy some life that’s not dictated by the schedules of working holiday visas. Sounds pretty like a pretty good place to set up shop and try to put something resembling a “long-term” plan together to me.
It seems like time has steadily increased its pace as we’ve gone through our travels. From a leisurely stroll in Dunedin, to a lively trot in Wellington, to a breathy gallop in Hobart, and finally to a frenetic sprint as our time comes to a close in Melbourne. Plus with a city of this size, and with this many opportunities, our ‘must hit’ list has grown faster than we’ve been able to check things off it, leading to a nearly panic-inducing sense of time running out. So, it’s been a month for making priorities, making plans, and getting some unmissables checked off.
With another big move coming up, to the notoriously unaffordable Hawiian Islands, Meredith has been in full-on work mode of late, trying to get as much wiggle room in the ol’ budget as she can before we leave our jobs. Fortunately her work has been able to supply the hours, unfortunately that means we’ve been limited to mostly seeing things together around the city. Not that that’s been any sort of disappointment, one epic end to our dry/vego July at a local viking-themed restaurant -Mjolner- was particularly memorable for arguably the best steak I’ve ever enjoyed paired with beer out of proper ale horns. However, this schedule has sent me heading farther afield for some solo journeys to see the most of the Victorian countryside that I can.
“And even then, it’s a bit of a coin toss on the actual day-of weather.”
Now despite the generally mild winter down south planning tips out into the sticks does require a bit of timing and planning, lest you get caught out on particularly squally nights. And even then, it’s a bit of a coin toss on the actual day-of weather. After a week of rain the weather opened up a bit so I set my sights north west to one of Victoria’s most famous national parks, The Grampians.
This craggy little range rises abruptly from the wide open plains providing a little island of preserved nature in a country of stretching farmlands. The mountains are famous for their wide vistas and granite formations that draw hikers and rock climbers from around the world. Being the middle of wet winter I opted for a hike around to see what all the fuss was about. While certainly the views out into the country were impressive, and the peaks held on to swirling banks of cloud lent the whole scene an aire of “Misty Mountains”, what really set the place apart for me were the deep canyons that cut through the slabs of rock.
“The trail all but disappeared as every surface was either slick rock or running water and the cliffs climbed higher on either side.”
One track in particular, that took me from the little adventure town of Halls Gap up through the valleys and to the aptly named ‘Pinnacle’, left me very impressed. It started with a rivulet jumping and splashing down the solid slabs of rock creating swirling pools, but the higher I climbed the deeper the water carved. Halfway up the mountain I entered Victoria’s “Grand Canyon”. The trail all but disappeared as every surface was either slick rock or running water and the cliffs climbed higher on either side. Up and up it wound as the rivulet reduced to a trickle and then to nothing leaving ever tightening walls until one final squeeze through a proper slot popped me out nearly all the way at the pinnacle. Now that’s a hike that pays some dividends.
“Standing out on this exposed strip of land jutting into the Bass Strait the skies were dotted with clouds and the wind dropped as I neared the coast like the ocean was holding it’s breath for me.”
A few weeks after The Grampians the weather cleared for me again and I set sights in the opposite direction south and east to the southernmost tip of mainland AUS, Wilson’s Promontory. The prom is an isolated peninsula a couple hours out of Melbourne that’s covered entirely by a national park, so I thought it seemed the perfect place to try my luck with a little midwinter backpacking. I lined up a lively overnighter out to Refuge Cove that would cover a good portion of the peninsula.
Fortunately I hit the weather perfectly, to an almost unbelievable degree. Standing out on this exposed strip of land jutting into the Bass Strait the skies were dotted with clouds and the wind dropped as I neared the coast like the ocean was holding it’s breath for me. True to form though, as I sit here now writing another storm is lashing the park driving home the point of my luck. Regardless of good timing I wasn’t going to get the experience many go to Wilson’s Prom for: beach life; ringed by untouched, white beaches and the nation’s largest marine preserve most come in summer for the best beaches in the state. I went expecting some good wildlife, and serene coast even if I wasn’t to be tempted with a swim at any point.
“Wilson’s Prom looked positively prehistoric.”
As advertised each headland I rounded revealed yet another stretch of white sand and aqua waters devoid of any sign of man. But what really had me head over heels was the interior of the park. It was considerably more mountainous than I’d thought and with untouched, native eucalypt forest covering every inch of the dramatic hills (and nothing to be seen but open ocean in the other direction) Wilson’s Prom looked positively prehistoric. And while I may not have wanted a swim, a swim wanted me. I was warned of a tidal creek crossing in the middle of the first day by a helpful ranger (missed that on the track description) and of course I showed up almost perfectly at high tide but with daylight a burning I had no choice but to get a move on. So I stripped from the waist down and loaded everything in my pack and get to wading. Fortunately, there was no one at the campground across the river to laugh at the spectacle and the waters were only dick deep. Oh the things I’ll do for dry clothes!
So now you’re up to date as we face down our final couple weeks here in the big smoke, which I’m sure will pass in a blink. At the end of the month we’ll be packing up all of our worldly possessions once again into Dolores and heading up the coast. We’re planning a big road trip up possibly as far as Byron Bay to see some more of those classic Aussie sights, but I’ll get to writing about all that once we’re in Hawaii! Until then it’s just a matter of truly savoring these last precious days.
Our Route:
All Seasons All Days
It never really feels like winter here in Victoria, but it also never really feels like not winter either.
Here I sit on a chilly June evening pondering my place in the world and feeling pretty satisfied all told.
I’d lie if I said our transition to the mainland had been as seamless as our past moves have tended to be. Something about the combination of a big expensive city, and a wariness of the ‘move every 6 moths’ life style isn’t exactly conducive to feeling very centered. Funny thing, that. But with time all places can become home and now, nearly halfway through our time in Melbourne Meredith and I are starting to really feel settled here in this sprawling city.
We’re starting to feel fully ingratiated at work, we’ve been slowly cultivating groups of friends to head to to drinks (or recently, off to an escape room) with, and we’ve got our schedules blessedly synched up allowing for some much needed off time to explore both this great city and the ever surprising Victorian countryside.
Around town, predictably, we’ve filled our time with a series of world-class art exhibits and unforgettable meals out. Not bad for life at the bottom of the world. Turns out when people say Melbourne is a bit of a cultural capital they aren’t deluded by the lack of competing cities (Sydney aside) within a 2,000 mile radius. There’s legitimately a lot to do here down south. With dozens of large event venues, and endless string of museums, heaps of sports teams our list of things to do seems to be growing faster than we can check things off.
But you know we haven’t been just killing time around town. There’s plenty of nature to explore at the city’s doorstep and beyond, and our restless bones are constantly called into the “wintry” hills. With the impending arrival of winter I took the opportunity for one last snow-free trip up into the high country to get some riding in up on the ski mountains before they close for the mud season, as well as to explore the aptly named Cathedral Ranges.
For as sprawling and flat as this city can often feel it is pretty remarkable how close at hand some seriously rugged bush really is. Just up past the rolling, vine-covered hills of the Yarra Valley rise the scraggy peaks of the Cathedral Ranges, barely a stone’s throw away by Australian standards. What was most striking about the visit to the area though is just how jungly the country can get. Sure there’s plenty of dry podocarp forest about of the type we saw plenty of in Tassie, but turn the right corner to a more southerly exposure and you’ll find yourself in a fern-laden jungle. It’s a good state of affairs for my New Zealand starved soul.
Most recently though, Mere and I lined a couple of days off together and struck south by south west (ha) along the famed Great Ocean Road. This famous drive wraps through the national park that covers the far southern tip of the Australian mainland. The Otway national park preserves some of Australia’s oldest rainforest while various marine parks protect the wild waters of the southern ocean. Only a bare few townships lie amongst the winding turns of the rugged coastline. Naturally, this area of pristine natural beauty is an insane tourist hotspot…during the summer months. Fortunately for us, we’re not scared of a little wild weather and headed out well off of tourist season. Victorians love to brag about the unpredictability of the weather that the Southern Ocean serves up; while Colorado would like to have a word about their notion of unpredictable weather it is certainly true that you have to be ready for four seasons of weather in a day when you head out into the southern winter.
All this wild weather had the effect of positively draining the towns of their usual tourism bustle, which suited us just fine, being a pair who prefer solitude and self-made adventure. It was a positive treat to get to drive along this wild coast watching towering waves crash against the cliffs below as we (unsuccessfully) scoured the trees for any koalas who may be living above. But of course there was a destination in mind for this escapade, the famed Twelve Apostles. You almost certainly have seen photos of these iconic sea cliffs with 12 spires (now more like 8) rising from the sea. As you may expect the area is typically overrun with coaches and camper vans, but rolling up on a windy June morning found us alone looking over one of Australia’s most beautiful vistas. Sometimes tourist traps really are worth the hype and the view of morning light glinting off the Apostles with a rainbow arching off over the ocean beyond truly was a sight to behold.
We'll have to get out and find some more of these incredible Aussie sights no matter what the winter decides to throw our way.
A Whole Lotta Country
It’s taken a bit of time, but we’re settled down here in Melbourne and beginning to see just what the mainland has to offer.
Well that was a bit of an extended break! The move to Melbourne has proved to be our most challenging yet, and the big city has kept us properly hopping since we’ve arrived. But now, a month in, Meredith and I are finally settling into our new place and jobs here in the Big Smoke and I have a little time to breathe.
It started much as our move to Wellington did by loading all of our worldly possessions into (and onto) the car and bidding a fond farewell to our Taswegian roommates (who’ll be sorely missed) then caught the aptly named Spirit of Tasmania, the ferry that connects Tassie to the mainland. Unlike the brief 4 hour jaunt between New Zealand’s islands the trip to mainland Aus is a bit more involved, and best done at night. The 10 trip across the Bass Strait offers little of the scenery that the Cook Strait has in spades, so we dove on and dozed our way across to awake to a brand new day in a brand new city.
Melbourne. What to say about this sprawling southerly metropolis? Well let’s start with the basics, it’s a city of nearly 6 million people (so think Atlanta) surrounding the shores of Port Phillip on the southern tip of Victoria. The city lies astride the Yarra River, but that may be to give to much credit to a river that wasn’t much more than a convenient dredge point near the harbor and a few miles up river looks more like the Platte than any major body of water. While Sydney is more populous Melbourne constantly prides itself as being the cultural capital of Australia. And it provides to back up the claim. Theaters, museums of every stripe, sports arenas, and historic buildings fill the far-flung suburbs. And flung they are indeed, you can easily drive two hours around the harbor and still be “in Melbourne”.
“Every cafe is definitely, certainly, unquestionably serves the best coffee in town.”
Meredith and I have settled in the ultra-convenient, excessively-hip Fitzroy neighborhood which lies just north of the city center. Here every street is lined with tempting restaurants of all colors, every alley is covered in street art, and every cafe definitely, certainly, unquestionably serves the best coffee in town (no need to try the place next door right?!). We’re loving the area for it’s convenient location to so many interesting parts of town, handy cycling infrastructure, cute architecture (historic townhouses, no big apartment blocks here!), and overwhelming amount of food and bev options. I, handily, took a job at Summit Cycles located not a 5 minute ride from our new place, and the premier mountain bike shop in the city. It was actually a surprisingly tough decision because if there’s one thing Melburnians love, it’s their bikes. I had to compare a dizzying number of shops. But in the end I had to go with the MTB shop, because who better to ride with right?
It’s a good thing too, given that most of my traveling since we’ve come to town has been cycling centric. I blew through the local trail networks pretty quickly (being such a large city there’s not much close at hand), and recently turned my sights on Victoria’s alpine region (or as they call it Alpine Shire, cute). That’s right, 3 hours from Melbourne I can even be tempted with a little skiing. And where there’s skiing (in the summer at least) there’s mountain biking to be done.
“I was not feeling too optimistic about these so called “mountains”.”
My most recent trip started with a couple days up at Mt. Buller (the closest hill to Melbs) with the shop crew. After driving through rolling, dusty countryside for several hours I was not feeling too optimistic about these so called “mountains”. But sure, enough if you wind your way far enough into the countryside the terrain starts to climb and the flora begins to change. Buller is a rocky peak most well known for it’s quirky inverted village, all the buildings are at the top and you ski down from there! Oh, the things you can do when your hills top out at 5,000 feet.
“It was two hours of dopamine-fueled driving.”
From Buller I headed even further afield to the nexus of Victorian mountain biking, and the alpine region in general, the picturesque mountain town of Bright. Rolling in, with the autumn leaves a-turning felt so much like coming home. It’s funny how it seems no matter where I journey a mountain town always hits that home button in my brain. A day of riding the park in Bright and I headed over the pass to the impossibly even cuter (and suitably named) Mount Beauty, the gem of Victoria’s Alpine Shire. Camped up in a fern-laden gully with a drizzle pitter-pattering on top of my car and waking up to a grassy vale filled with low-hanging clouds had me felling like I was back in New Zealand. After an epic morning on the bike my sense of adventure told me to head higher into the hills to find a back way home. What came next was arguably the best scenic route I’ve ever driven in my life. From Mt Beauty the winding road climbs through lush eucalypt forest to the resort Falls Creek before heading off into some truly wild country. With shining sun, rolling banks of clouds, smooth roads, and a vast forest stretching in all directions I was treated to two hours of dopamine-fueled driving.
Yeah, I think I can get used to all this country.
Islands Off Of Islands
We haven’t had to go far here in Tassie to find some incredible places.
2019 has started out on a strong foot here down south. While we get seemingly endless reports of polar vortexes and back-to-back storms from home, Meredith and I are hiding out down here soaking up the dog days of summer. I’d say we’re officially in the transient life sweet spot as well. We’ve been in Hobart just long enough to be really established at work, have built a solid crew of friends, and still have plenty of local sights on our Tassie bucket list. It’s been a great way to ring in the new year.
Many of you know that Meredith actually headed back to Colorado over the holidays leaving me to fend for myself over New Year’s Eve. Luckily there was a tip-top event in town to keep me entertained, The Marion Bay Falls Festival. We’d heard whisperings about Falls almost as soon as we arrived in town, and as the lineup was released it quickly jumped to the top of my list for NYE to-dos.
It’s been a long running event, taking over rolling, grassy paddocks about an hour north of Hobart. The stages are tucked down amongst the hills affording sweeping views out over the idyllic beaches of Marion Bay. For refreshment between sweaty days of dancing revelers make their way down to the beach for a dip in some of Tassie’s clearest waters, while during the day, cool sea breezes sweep through the venue warding of the stinking heat associated with so many summer events. Not a bad way to see a little music. Oh and what music it was; I caught some acts who’ve long been on my to-see list (Flight Facilities, Touch Sensitive), was blown away by some Aussie acts I’d barely heard of before (Jack River, Golden Features, and Cub Sport), threw it back with the old boys from Toto, caught up with some old favorites (Cut Copy and Cashmere Cat), and saw some seriously huge international acts as well (Anderson .Paak, Interpol, and Hilltop Hoods). It was a busy couple of days to ring in the new year without a doubt.
One down side about these bright, sunny Tasmanian days, wildfires. Towards the end of January dry conditions had prompted 28 separate bush fires to flare up in various parts of the state, including some quite close to home filling the Derwent valley with smoke for days at a time. While by and large day-to-day operations continue as normal under the veil of smoke, it does lend things a bit of an apocalyptic feel (be they everyday rides to work, or trips to the local bike park at Maydena- see pics above). It seemed a great opportunity to head seaward and escape the gloom. Luckily, a nearby attraction provided just such a destination, Bruny Island.
Bruny’s a large, sparsely-populated island that stretches nearly from Hobart down to just about the southern tip of Tas. It’s known for unspoiled nature, surf, and some fine farm-to-table culinary offerings. Naturally such a place was a must hit for us, so we loaded up Dolores and caught the ferry on over. First stop, the neck. A tourist trap if there ever was one. This whisp of land connects the two larger parts of the island but allows for an iconic photo op down its thin length (see above), fortunately we were able to catch it just at sunset and without another soul in sight. The next morning we headed further south to hike the dolorite spires of Fluted Cape, before finally heading to the southern tip and the seclusion of cloudy bay. Cloudy threw into sharp relief my still amateurish surfing abilities; while surf at the neck was no good, cloudy provided some waves way above my pay grade. So Mere and I opted to hang ashore to watch some more experienced guys get pounded by the southerly swell and enjoy ourselves a classic beach day.
The next morning Cloudy Bay proved true to its name, but not with the clouds we’d expected. It seems we hadn’t gone far enough to escape the reach of the smoke. But we feared not for the highlight of the trip was yet to come and had nothing to with outdoor explorations, the Bruny Island Cheese & Beer Company. This bastion of locavore provenance was established by a brewer and a cheese maker a couple of years back to make use of the beautiful ingredients available right there on Bruny. Success has bred success, and today the company owns a lovely complex mid-island where visitors of all sorts sit in their natural gardens nippling cheese, sipping ale, and discussing the virtues of the under-appreciated pairing of cheese and beer. A most agreeable way to pass a smoky day on Bruny, I say.
Our current transient life sweet spot was shown in all its glory last week, when my dreams of doing another cycling wine tour took on a life of their own. All thanks to the great crew of friends we’ve cultivated down here. Just across the river lies one of Tassie’s most condensed wine regions in Coal River Valley, and I started dreaming of riding its length to sample all the wines along the way. Well our friends got wind of this, and what hatched wound up looking a lot more like the brewery tour monstrosities I’ve organized in Denver than the low-key wine tour Mere and I enjoyed in Marlborough. But that’s the beauty of staying long enough to cultivate a solid crew, they help make good days great.
Oh, and what a beaut it turned out to be. Ten of us saddled up in the small town of Richmond on a sunny Saturday morning and began our pedal south along the valley. The route would take us 15k through 5 vineyards from some of Tassie’s largest and most well-heeled (Frogmore Creek won best cellar door), to arguably the smallest vineyard and winery on the planet (Everyman and His Dog winery, run by a retired couple, who definitely took the most-lovable award). As the day unfolded it became a better and better representation of our time in Tasmania thus far, great days in great places made unforgettable by the friends we’ve made along the way.
Our Route:
Island State Runnings
We sip, savor, climb, and pedal our way through these last lazy days of 2018.
“Let your work feel like holiday and not your holiday feel like work. ”
I’ve learned a valuable lesson. A lesson I will surely impart on everyone I meet who’s considering living the working holiday life. Turn down your damned expectations and savor the ride. When we moved to New Zealand, we were excited. We bought guide books, hatched grand plans (half of which wound up getting scrapped), wrote down punch lists, and more or less planned everything we could in advance. That’s all well in good until things go awry and you feel that sharp FOMO sting. Contrast that with Tasmania, we were too busy making the most of our New Zealand time to make too many plans. That lack of expectation, has yielded some spectacular results. Every trip, is fluid and open, we savor the sites we see and we relish possibly the last time we’ll have in the forseeable to just relax and enjoy life. Because that’s the key of working holiday, let your work feel like holiday and not your holiday feel like work.
It’s for this reason, that I simultaneously have heaps to report, and no blockbuster trips or experiences to relate. Hobart is really starting to feel like home. We’re loving our roommates, they’re first crew we’ve actually gone on outdoor adventures with (see the Mt. Hartz pics above). Our jobs are comfortable and engaging, but minimal enough to keep any notion of stress at bay. Tasmanian summer has proven to be an absolute peach: most days are dappled with clouds, highs in the mid 70s and a nice sea breeze. While Tasmania may not be quite the looker that NZ’s South Island is, there certainly is plenty to keep you occupied at all points of the compass.
“Safe to say we narrowly escaped.”
Of late Meredith and I have taken off west, into the high country. We’ve gazed across the sparkling waters of Lake Saint Clair (Australia’s deepest lake in fact) and hiked up into some of the highest mountains in the state (although the elevation is pretty laughable even by island state standards). We’ve added another Tassie classic wildlife sighting to our list, the wombat. These fuzzy buggers look like big teddy bears, but we were thrown off pretty quickly when one spotted us, came out of the brush, and started backing us up the trail while letting out a blood-curdling battle screech….Turns out they’re actually pretty territorial, and can run almost 30 mph. Safe to say we narrowly escaped.
I’ve pointed our faithful Outback, Dolores, south to explore the renowned south coast. After you leave Hobart you have about an hour enjoying a drive through the famed Huon Valley orchards that earned Tas the nickname ‘Apple Isle’, but after that it feels like you’ve driven off the edge of the map. Pavement ends and you’re left cruising through misty old growth forests before, as it always does, things comes to an abrupt end and naught but the great Southern Ocean sweeps out between you and Antarctica. This is where Tassie shows it’s true colors. From this southern point all the way up the west coast to Strahan is nothing but untamed bush. Many outdoorsy yanks look at maps of the unimaginatively named Southwest National Park and think “Wow that park is huge there must be some great hiking in there!” No, such luck. That corner of the island is still mother nature’s domain. Untouched forest is so dense in its sprawl that it has stubbornly refused nearly all attempts at development. I’ve sought out some viewpoints that look into this untamed no man’s land (at Cockle Creek and Hartz Peak), to gaze into this jungly abyss and the wild mountains contained within. It may not have the drama of New Zealand landscapes but I defy anyone to visit these remote wilds and not feel humbled.
“But Derby sowed the seeds and so they reap the rewards.”
Most recently however, I took a northward trip of a different nature. Meredith took off to the US for the holidays, and I (finally) got myself a bike, so it was time to head off and check out the famed Blue Derby bike park. Derby, is a former tin-mining town tucked away in the woods of the island’s north east. It may well be a ghost town today if not for a bold investment by the local council to start building mountain bike trails. In the way these things happen trails begat more trails, which led to new shops popping up, which led to demand for accommodation in town, which led to interest from international events, all of which has created a compact hub of mountain biking bliss right where you’d least expect it. The most surprising thing about Derby is how average the location is, the trails are a mix of loam and gravel interspersed with slabs of granite, the hills are steep but rather squat, the climate mild if trending a bit on the wet side. In other words, this could be just about any town in Tasmania. But Derby sowed the seeds and so they reap the rewards.
I pulled up a few days before Christmas into a shady camping spot down by the river, threw the car in park and hopped on the bike for four days straight. They’ve built a tremendous trail system in those rolling green hills with everything from remote adventure trails, to massive jump lines, to some of the rowdiest tracks on the EWS circuit. I particularly enjoyed that while shuttling was a possibility, it wasn’t a necessity. Great, purpose built, climbs bring you to nearly every part of the park, allowing masochists like me to pedal for hours on end linking up massive loops through the ferny bush. Suffice to say this is my favorite bike park I’ve ridden, and is the future of cycling that I’d love to see.
So that’s the latest. Life goes on here down south and we try to make the most of every day. With Mere soon to return and the best weather of the year on the horizon I’m not sure what we’ll get up to in 2019, but I sure am excited to get to it. See you on the other side!
Our Route:
Continental Shift
In this edition: we move to Australia, beach it up on Moreton Island, visit Mere’s sister, set up shop in Hobart, and visit one sweet art museum.
Moreton Mayhem
We sold most of it, and packed the rest up real tight. Meredith and I condensed our lives back down to just a few suitcases hopped on a plane and headed off for another year of adventures on a new continent. We couldn’t be more excited.
Now, when we were originally considering heading abroad Australia was naturally high on the list. After all, Davis (Mere’s sister) provided some inspiration for us by moving over this way a couple years back and falling in love with the place. Well, it was a natural next step with an easy visa and a quick flight opening up a whole new world of opportunities. But before we got on with our Australian lives it was time to meet up with Miss Davis for some birthday shenanigans.
“We loaded up a friend’s 4 wheel drive hopped on a ferry.”
Davo lives in a killer place up in the very tropical city of Brisbane, a couple hour flight from windy Welly and we were sipping bevvies enjoying a warm evening breeze. A welcome change for us. True to form we didn’t come to loaf around the city, we had our eyes set on something a bit further afield. We loaded up a friend’s 4 wheel drive hopped on a ferry across the Brisbane harbor to Moreton Island.
Moreton is a rugged, sandy island facing out into the wide Pacific Ocean that exemplifies so much of what Australia has to offer. There are empty white-sand beaches as far as the eye can see, shipwrecks teeming with tropical fish, campsites nestled in the bush, and friendly bogans ripping around in the sand and crushing beers. Indeed, the four-wheel driving was a highlight attraction for many visitors. There isn’t a paved (or even really a developed road) in the joint. The ferry dumps you right on the beach and you take off; a few loose sand roads cross over the dune-y island but for the most part you fly along the wide, empty beaches that ring the island.
“Cooking up some kangaroo with your feet in the sand was every bit the Australian paradise we could have asked for.”
We nestled for a couple nights in a remote site on the far side of the island, waves crashing in just over the dunes. With nothing but snorkeling shipwrecks, body surfing, and beach walking on the agenda we all lived it up in our little vacation-from-our-vacation. Enjoying the tropical waters, flying down expansive beaches, and cooking up some kangaroo with your feet in the sand was every bit the Australian paradise we could have asked for.
It was great to catch up with Davis, meet some of her Brisbane friends, and really start to understand why she decided to stick around so long after doing a working holiday. Brisbane is a lovely city in it’s own right but is flanked by heaps of intriguing outdoor pursuits in every direction. It was great to get a proper vacation in before we packed back up and headed off to our new hometown: Hobart.
Making A Life In Hobart Town
A quick flight down AUS’s east coast and we stepped off the plane into a town that felt much more like our stomping grounds from the past year. Another deeply southerly harbor town clinging to the edge of the world. Now I know what many of you may be wondering, why Hobart?
“It’s a ragged little island surrounded by open ocean populated by vastly more sheep than people.”
Well, let’s start with why Tasmania. It’s a ragged little island surrounded by open ocean populated by vastly more sheep than people with outdoor pursuits at every turn. In other words, it’s New Zealand part two. Now the mountains may be a little less prominent, the volcanic activity a little less gratuitous, the bush eucalyptus-centric rather than fern and beech, but that would be to short change the undeniable beauty Tassie has to offer. Naturally, it seemed the perfect place for another summer of adventures. Once we landed on Tas as the region Hobart was really the only option for our next town. It’s by far the largest town being a bit larger than Dunedin (or twice the size of Boulder), and is the main center of activity on the island with many attractions right at hand and the most work opportunities. For being a utilitarian city choice though we’ve been surprisingly struck by its charm.
Hobart sits on the southeast coast of Tasmania upon the banks of the River Derwent with Mount Wellington rising in the background. It is a reasonably old town being the center of much early whaling traffic in the 1800s, so there is plenty of colonial charm around every corner, which is only to be outpaced by the outdoorsy ambition of the people. Riding, climbing, hiking, and surfing are all close at hand.
“Below the old homestead, the museum plunges five stories down into the Triassic sandstone below.”
Not only that, there are major cultural institutions as well, one of which we recently explored for Meredith’s birthday. The Museum of Old and New Art or MONA sits upon the Derwent a couple miles north of town. It’s usually the first thing out of a local’s mouth when they’re providing recommendations for the area, always saying “You’ll either love it, or you’ll hate it.” The museum was started after a local won it big gambling and decided to blow it all acquiring a pissant local vineyard and homestead to fill with some modern art. Apparently he figured out how to make some money off it, because today the complex is properly staggering. Below the old homestead the museum plunges five stories down into the Triassic sandstone below, opening up a labyrinth of caves filled with art from all eras.
“And that was all just on the first floor.”
For our visit (it being Mere’s birthday and all) we opted for the real splurgetastic experience. It kicked off from the wharf downtown when after a tidy brunch on the water we boarded their camo-painted catamaran ferry and stepped into the “posh pit” where we were treated to all the champagne we could sip and artsy snacks we could munch on the half hour trip up the river. We dove right in, riding their glass elevator through the layers of sandstone deep into the belly of the museum. They don’t go in much for labelling or long-winded artist backgrounds, you can use their app to try and find some info or navigate the joint, but getting lost really is part of the experience. Primarily MONA is filled with modern art of the variety that gets me frothing; installation and your interaction with a piece being as critical as anything hanging on the wall. With bellies full of bubbles we went in like kids in the proverbial candy store; wandering stony halls, dancing in mirror filled rooms, stumbling upon bars perched just above the river, pondering the artistic merits of a room filled with several tons of used motor oil. And that was all just on the first floor.
At midday we climbed back out of the grotto and into the sunshine to continue our luxury experience with a tour of the on-site vineyard. We learned about how the area was growing grapes long before it was an art museum and now produces one of Tassie’s biggest labels, Moorilla. Some tastings of their fine vintages, a quick cup of coffee, and a pastry kept us buzzing at an optimal level. So we dove right back in.
“That’s what MONA is, a cohesive work of art from beginning to end that delights and challenges you at every step.”
I could go in deep about the pieces we saw, or rather experienced. A room that lit up with your heartbeat, a maze of binary code, a wall of 77 sculpted vaginas, and a literal poop machine. But I clearly couldn’t do any of it justice, and it would short change the fact that the experience is really what you go for. We wandered those art filled caverns for so long we ultimately had to push back our return ferry trip, and honestly we could’ve gone for twice as long. After hours of serendipitous wandering the sun drew low in the sky and saw us whisking back over the Derwent, drinks in hand, giddy after experiencing one of the greatest works of art on the planet. That’s what MONA is, a cohesive work of art from beginning to end that delights, intrigues, and challenges you at every step. Not bad for a backwater whaling colony.
Life in old Hobart Town has proved fortuitous thus far. We’ve moved in with a young Tasmanian couple Jesse & Jemma (we live at 2/12 Woodlyn Ct. South Hobart, if you want to send us a card or stalk us on Google Maps). The place is surrounded by the mountain bike trails that cover the slopes of Mount Wellington, and Australia’s oldest brewery (Cascade) is right down the street. We’ve got ourselves set up with a sexy Subaru Outback and named her Dolores, and have been laying plans left and right for an epic summer of escapades.
Stay tuned for more tales from down under the down under!