A fortnight to the day, three gentlemen and I boarded planes that would lead us thru Asia, Indonesia, and onto Sydney, Australia. With a vague remembrance, the flight went on quite well with tasty airplane food, horrible children that commanded the attention of all, an orchestra of snores, and a sleepy movie soundtrack written by Yann Tiersen (Amelie).
Upon the arrival of our forth compadre, a Mr. Jack Wood, we set out to meet our lovely Australian hosts. A few minutes and a heap of cash later, the taxi left us at the door of our temporary home. After nearly 40 hours of travel, it is to be said without the need of being spoken that we were slightly fatigued.
The next several days were spent meandering about the city making sure to exploit the beach as much as possible. I suppose walking the harbor bridge followed by a round of beers (provided by the generous Micky Mike) makes for a good night as well. And hell! Even though the surf was a bit shit, the taste of the pacific crashing down was as tasty and powerful as ever and, at the end of the day, all that was left aside from the tide washing in was an out of breath, ragged, silhouette of a man walking along the beach carrying nothing but a board and a smile. A board and a smile.
Though I was quite keen to get back to surfing, We decided to get a short taste of trekking with all of our new gear. Harnesses, rope, shoes, packs, tents, lanterns, and even Nutella were all to be put to the test with a short venture into the Blue Mountains past the Three Sisters and onto Blackheath with the Shipley Upper rock plateau in our sights. Exploring valleys, yipping and yelling on ridges, wading thru fog, and misty water falls were quite all right especially with the Kookaburra laughing at us all the way (google Kookaburra laugh. do it.) We climbed and climbed some more. Jack and Micah climbed their first route. I am finally in the 5.10 club. Drew excelled and lead a 5.11a starting with overhung jugs planing out to small, tight crimps. The climbing was bloody brilliant. Looking at the rock a 60-80 ft. climb with fresh chalk marks and solid bolts was nice enough, but what made the climb was when your curious eye decided to look to the right then to the left and then flat out 180 degrees opposite and see a drop that widens the eye a bit more; a drop extending thousands of feet running into a lush valley hidden amongst a surrounding family of mountains and feeling the strong, cool wind brush the face of the mother of all the mountains as she stood taller than the rest in the hot Australian sun.
When the climbing was all said and done, we meandered back to Sydney aboard a lovely train filled with people going about their daily business with news papers, coffees, briefcases, and books in hand - not all in one hand, of course. As soon as we arrived in Sydney, we inhaled a quick meal only to be taken by Mike (a lovely gent, truly) 3 and a half hours North to Shoal Bay along the Australian coast line South of Brisbane.
Upon our arrival, Rachael (our new, lovely host) set out a pack of cards, a case of beer, and introduced herself to our crew. Needless to say, we became friends in a quick hurry. I mentioned earlier that the beaches in Sydney were nice, yeh? Well, If I did not, they are. However, they do not come close to the sheer goodness of the beaches in and around Shoal and Nelson Bay. For two or three days, we wondered about the sandy and rocky beaches of the Bay. The highlight you ask? Well, snorkeling was great. Truly great. I SAW DORI! IT WAS TOTALLY HER! I nearly chocked! Good thing that I did, because I must have spooked all of the other fishies out of the bushy kelp forest that I was fluttering about and, in a moments time, I was surrounded by a sea of color rather than a sea of water - I guess both, but whatever.
Oh yeah! The highlight. We, along with our new bestest friend Rachael, decided to test the limits of the tide and cross over to a beach with out path or pass except for the point of large rocks thrown upon the shore forming a jetty filled with ride pools, barnacles, sea slugs, and other little critters left behind at low tide. What we found greatly exceeded our expectations. My eye met a small, golden beach with set after set of blue and turquoise waves crashing against barrier rock formations nestled on the brink of a semi-circle facade of twisted, cut rock that stood behind us as we faced the Pacific and felt the white ocean mist kissing our sun-burnt faces. In the middle of the sandy beach stood a large rock jutting out of the ground dead center of the lagoon looking over the big ole' blue. I had to get on top, oh yes, I had to get on top. The wet, salty air and my mangled mane might as well have made babies on the spot. We sat around the small beach without saying a word meerely listening to the waves battling and crashing together as they receded and charged at one another over and over again. Usually static things are burned into memory - ya know, like smells, pictures, maybe even touch? This memory was not static; is not static. I can close my eyes and taste and feel and smell and see all that I did that day in perfect moving imagery. Good stuff.
Within several days, we packed up and headed North to Murrula North Ranch, the home of Rachael and her lovely family located outside of Scone, Australia (the horse capital of Australia!). We've only been here a short few days, but we feel at home. The land, the farm, and the family have all been so, so good to us. In order to give this memory in the making justice, I feel a fresh coffee (or beer depending on time) and a revitalized mind is required.
Until next time, folks.
Jonathon
P.S. Sorry for no pictures. I have been shooting in RAW which apparently produces a file (.RW2) that is unreadable to any Photoshop less than the brand-spankin' new one. So, to prevent this from happening in the future, I intend on shooting RAW and JPEG, which will allow me to upload pictures with no need for conversion or any of that. Just know that the touched up ones in the end would be better, I suppose?
P.S.S. My internet access is pretty sparse. I believe that it will get even worse in New Zealand. So, what I am trying to say is... don't expect many more of these. I'm talkin' about one per month, tops? Sorry!
When the climbing was all said and done, we meandered back to Sydney aboard a lovely train filled with people going about their daily business with news papers, coffees, briefcases, and books in hand - not all in one hand, of course. As soon as we arrived in Sydney, we inhaled a quick meal only to be taken by Mike (a lovely gent, truly) 3 and a half hours North to Shoal Bay along the Australian coast line South of Brisbane.
Upon our arrival, Rachael (our new, lovely host) set out a pack of cards, a case of beer, and introduced herself to our crew. Needless to say, we became friends in a quick hurry. I mentioned earlier that the beaches in Sydney were nice, yeh? Well, If I did not, they are. However, they do not come close to the sheer goodness of the beaches in and around Shoal and Nelson Bay. For two or three days, we wondered about the sandy and rocky beaches of the Bay. The highlight you ask? Well, snorkeling was great. Truly great. I SAW DORI! IT WAS TOTALLY HER! I nearly chocked! Good thing that I did, because I must have spooked all of the other fishies out of the bushy kelp forest that I was fluttering about and, in a moments time, I was surrounded by a sea of color rather than a sea of water - I guess both, but whatever.
Oh yeah! The highlight. We, along with our new bestest friend Rachael, decided to test the limits of the tide and cross over to a beach with out path or pass except for the point of large rocks thrown upon the shore forming a jetty filled with ride pools, barnacles, sea slugs, and other little critters left behind at low tide. What we found greatly exceeded our expectations. My eye met a small, golden beach with set after set of blue and turquoise waves crashing against barrier rock formations nestled on the brink of a semi-circle facade of twisted, cut rock that stood behind us as we faced the Pacific and felt the white ocean mist kissing our sun-burnt faces. In the middle of the sandy beach stood a large rock jutting out of the ground dead center of the lagoon looking over the big ole' blue. I had to get on top, oh yes, I had to get on top. The wet, salty air and my mangled mane might as well have made babies on the spot. We sat around the small beach without saying a word meerely listening to the waves battling and crashing together as they receded and charged at one another over and over again. Usually static things are burned into memory - ya know, like smells, pictures, maybe even touch? This memory was not static; is not static. I can close my eyes and taste and feel and smell and see all that I did that day in perfect moving imagery. Good stuff.
Within several days, we packed up and headed North to Murrula North Ranch, the home of Rachael and her lovely family located outside of Scone, Australia (the horse capital of Australia!). We've only been here a short few days, but we feel at home. The land, the farm, and the family have all been so, so good to us. In order to give this memory in the making justice, I feel a fresh coffee (or beer depending on time) and a revitalized mind is required.
Until next time, folks.
Jonathon
P.S. Sorry for no pictures. I have been shooting in RAW which apparently produces a file (.RW2) that is unreadable to any Photoshop less than the brand-spankin' new one. So, to prevent this from happening in the future, I intend on shooting RAW and JPEG, which will allow me to upload pictures with no need for conversion or any of that. Just know that the touched up ones in the end would be better, I suppose?
P.S.S. My internet access is pretty sparse. I believe that it will get even worse in New Zealand. So, what I am trying to say is... don't expect many more of these. I'm talkin' about one per month, tops? Sorry!
