HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL BLOGGERS!
Hope you had a great one whatever you all got up to. We really must apologise for the lack of blog material and correspondence over the last couple of months but the matter really has been out of our control, let me try to explain everything that has been going on, its a bit of a long story. After leaving Northern Queensland we eventually ended up in the Hillbilly, 1 Horse Town, Stanthorpe, which is right in the south of Queensland on the border of New South Wales. Stanthorpe sits at the grand altitude of approx 1000 metres above sea level so suffice to say it got darn cold at times and was a world away from 'the tropical North' which we experienced in Townsville. So what are we doing in this cold, inbred part of the country you might ask? Well with the diving not going as planned and being ripped off left right and centre by those egos in the industry we wondered how we were going to earn any money, then realised that we may be able to do some reliable, honest work on the 'Harvest Trail'. OOh arr, ooh arr!!
The Harvest Trail for those who don't know is a big national organised thing where you can call a hotline and get information on farm/harvest work anywhere in Australia. There is always something going on somewhere so wherever you are in the country you can ring them up and they will tell you of work in the area and also give you info on getting there, accommodation etc. So, down to our last few dollars and getting more and more desperate all the time (where we gonna sleep, what we gonna do...??!!) we headed for Stanthorpe. We had been guaranteed there would be work when we got there so got off the bus in the tiny town full of hope of making some dollar. We got picked up by another fat man called Dave who turned out to be from Essex, Yes we thought, an Englishman, no more getting ripped of by dodgy Ozzies, how wrong can you be?
So we drove to this campsite, which you have got to remember is in the middle of nowhere. I mean, Stanthorpe is in the middle of nowhere, nothing but cattle stations and the odd vineyard as far as the eye can see, but the campsite was 10k's from the town, so really stuck out there, having no transport etc. So we paid up a weeks rent to the lady who owned the campsite, foolishly before checking out the caravan which we were told we could stay in, it was only after we had paid we noticed a sign on the wall ' Choose your accomodation carefully- Strictly no refunds'. So we were lead down to the caravan which looked crappy from the outside, but hey you can't judge a book by its cover, so we went in to dump our bags. We were in for a bit of a shock, sure we weren't expecting the Ritz but you would expect it to be clean when you're paying $280 a week! We were so tired and stressed out after everything we had been going through at that time that we thought it couldn't possibly get any worse or that we could get ripped of anymore by any scheming beasties, but no, I (Amy-hello!) was so worn out by it all that i cried. There was a huge hole in the ceiling above the bed (which was just a plank of wood which was too small to hold the 'mattress' by about 1 foot) which was covered with old editions of Bi-Lo supermarkets catalogue. I was convinced there were spiders in the hole because there were so many cobwebs all over the place and dead spiders hanging out of other random holes. The cupboards were too dirty to put anything in them, and the oven was filthy, as was the carpet, curtains and anything else you care to imagine. It clearly hadn't been cleaned in years. Anyway the next day we done our best to make in habitable and also found a few days work at a small farm down the road, picking apricots. We decided that the money we made that week we would spend on hiring a car and doing the 8 hour trip to Sydney to leave our dive equipment and laptop in the safe hands of Daniel and B. The rest of the money we would spend on a tent and then come back to work in Stanthorpe, no more scabby caravan! We knew there was no way we could live in a tent with all our expensive gear. So we did the trip, it was great to see Dan and B , the last time we saw them was when they came out to Thailand. They live in a place call Narrabeen which is on the Northern Shores of Sydney, on a really nice beach where there is loads of surfing action and right on a lovely lake too. They have a really cool little apartment where we stayed for the week. They took us to check out the Opera house (way smaller than you would imagine) and the Harbour Bridge. All too soon though it was time to drive our hire car back to Stanthorpe and get ready for tent life. So that's what we did. Now, when we had being staying at the caravan park in the hole (caravan) we got a ride to work which was arranged by the people that run the park. We thought it would be the same for everyone that lived there, but it turned out that they do not help you out with transport if you are staying in a tent, don't know why, i guess it is because you are giving them a lot less money per week. So we had set the tent up and spent one night in it before we were told this, then we were also told that they would not help us too find work if we stayed in a tent, which is a service that most of the campsites on the Harvest trail provide. The really annoying thing though is that we had told the stupid woman who owned the park of our plans and that we would be back with a tent and she assured us that everything would be ok, what a bitch!
So we decided to move to another park 5k's down the road, nearer town. We set up the tent and everything seemed ok, they even found us work for the next day. So far so good we thought, apart from having to share the kitchen with 30 loud, messy German backpackers and paying 20 cents for 4 minutes in the shower everything seemed cool. It wasn't for a couple of days that we realised what a freak show we were living in. The park was run by a middle aged Australian couple, the guy Jeff turned out to be a raging alcoholic who would regularly get off his head and stagger down to the camp kitchen too shout and scream at any poor backpackers who happened to be hanging around in the kitchen at night. Luckily we would always retreat after dinner to chill out in the tent (which actually started to seem quite cosy after a while, we had an air bed, double sleeping bag etc) but we regularly heard his drunken tirades from where we slept. Sue, his wife was one of the most neurotic people ever who would take anything that anyone left lying around and sell it on for 50 cents on a little table in the office (we heard a few confrontations when she tried to sell peoples weekly shopping or clothes!) and would accuse us (the workers) of doing all kinds of things to make their life difficult. Then there was Damien, their only real employee apart from the cleaners, what a nut job. He was 24, married with 3 kids, he would boast loudly as he drove the bus full of backpackers to work that his wife had been pregnant the whole time he had known her (3 kids and 3 miscarriages in between- wrong!) and he believed that a woman was pretty much useless for child bearing past the age of 25 so you had to get 'em in quick! He was also a total bible basher and anyone who didn't believe in the Adam and Eve theory was crazy, the guy had been totally brainwashed, small town syndrome or what?
So we worked in Stanthorpe for about another 3 weeks, I was packing nectarines into boxes at one farm, not so hard physically but extremely boring and repetitive as you can probably imagine. Also was a real strain on the shoulders as constantly reaching over for the nectarines. Kieran was stationed at various farms for sporadic days here and there, doing hellish work such as picking vegetables, ground vegetables. Onions, Cabbage etc, etc. All meant bending over for an excruciating amount of hours in the hot sun. Poor bugger.
We were at a bit of a wits end, with Christmas rolling in, and the new years eve thing playing on our minds. We were considering buying a car, and tried desperately hard to find the money to get a half decent one. Although we wanted only to spend $1000. With the idea of having one being that we would no longer have to depend on the caravan site to find us work, as we'd be able to find work ourselves and get to it. Also being stuck in the middle of nowhere would've been easier to manage.
The work was so here and there for Kieran there was never any chance really of achieving that goal. When we arrived at the campsite in Stanthorpe the people who owned the place said that there would be loads of work in the area, as people leave for better things at Christmas. So staying may have secured us a bit of work, leading up to New years, we wanted to get to Sydney. Anyway, we watched tents demolish, Germans finish there schnitzels and Bavarian Lagers, people were offski. We watched about 50 Muslims and Koreans move into the campsite, and weighed up our options. We were gone by 1pm the next day. The Friday before Christmas. We wanted to go straight to Sydney, but Daniel and Belinda had family Christmas's to attend, so we opted for the only other cool place we know, Nimbin.
We arrived in Nimbin quite tired after a 2 hour journey turned into a 6 hour journey with a 3 hour wait in a little town called Grevelia. The town only consisted of 16 houses, and most people from Grevelia hung out in the local, petrol/bottleshop/bar/convinience store, with a cool guy called Fred. We'd pulled in as our car was broken. We'd hitched a lift with these two crazy dudes from Stanthorpe, who made us listen to Creed on there beaten up old speakers, full blast all the way. We were grateful the car broke down. We pulled in to the familiar smell of the old sweet Mary Jane, and after a little speculation, sweet Mary was being passed around a big group of complete strangers. Grevelia fixed our car, with one dude in particular gashing his wrist trying to get a new belt on, so we could drive the car without the battery dying. We were very appreciative of Grevelia, so thanks guys. (Even better though, Fred who looked like the big Labowski hooked us up with a bag of the finest organic Herb in Australia!) Off we went.
We had been to Nimbin twice before and knew where it was we wanted to stay, a place called Granny's Farm. We had met people who work and live in Nimbin there, also the guys who owned and run the campsite were very cool, liberal people. Nimbin is very liberal. We pitched our tent just before darkness engulfed us, awarding us with the most fabulous sky, so full of all the stars. Not just 100, more like 1,000,000. As far as the eye could see there were more stars. Shooting around the sky periodically through out the night. We stayed up that night until 5am, chilling and chatting with some strange but extremely interesting people.
A guy called Terence was handing out what looked like pretty good massage's, I asked him if Amy could get one, and before you could say, "Oooh that's nice!" he was on it. He would tweek your head and hair and ask you to pretend you were dangling from a string, then he would start to relieve you of what he'd call "Rubbish, come on get rid of all that tension and Rubbish", swishing with his hands and breathing quite strangely. He'd keep making sure you were on the string, so to be able to prod and swish on you. I was mesmerised. Shortly after I asked him to do the same to me, he agreed if I went to collect wood for him for the fire. Fairs, fair. On my return he began. The dude had magic hands, he seemed to be able to drag all my energy all around my body, maybe adding a little of his own, starting at the bottom of my back, pushing up slowly and precisely so eventually the guy had my jaw locked, with out even touching me. Eyes watering, I was close to what I would describe as a Brain Orgasm. Cheers Terence.
I was still awake when the sun arose that morning, Amy in bed, I was being kept awake by the mad sounds coming from outside the tent. I was trying to work out how many different birds and insects I could hear. All in the most amazing chorus, and as I was in a tent, it seemed to be literally all around me, within touching distance. I had to get out of the tent and inspect. I went to the creek, where it was loudest, and with each call from whatever bird I heard, I just had to look quick and I saw exactly where the noise originated. I counted about 40 different birds, and as I sat on the rock by the water, a Turtle swam up to greet me. Nimbin is rich in wildlife and fauna. The hills that roll in and out of Nimbin are sooo green, and there is a rainforest just a few miles along the road. Some of the only Rainforest in New South Wales. It all stemmed from Mt Warning. Used to be a volcano, a dome volcano, which spewed thousands of years ago into the surrounding valleys. Nimbin being right under Mt Warning still relishes in the vast amount of volcanic minerals, surging under ground. Nimbin is also one place you are guaranteed to find Platypus!! Don't know what one is? Go look it up, in fact google it right now. So there I was, poised, waiting, for the illustrious Platypus. And then suddenly, while I was looking in the other direction, a splash!! I turned quick, I saw a Duck. Bugger. So no deterred from my hunt I waited some more. I had walked up to the big water hole that collected a little way up stream, and 20 minutes of ninja stylee waiting, teetering on the edge of over excitement, I saw one. Yes I did. Well I saw its back anyway, it had to be one. I knew it was, but went back to Amy, saying I didn't really get to see it as I didn't see its weird face, just a black back. So although yes I saw one, I didn't get to see its weirdness, which essentially is why I need to see one.
Christmas day was messy, some photos from then are here on the blog. Less said about Christmas day the better. We had a wicked time, but Amy drank a bit too much too early. Was back at it later on though.
We did meet a cool amount of people. We met an Irish dude, called Gary, from Cork. Very cool guy. Also his friend Dean, from Brighton. Also very cool. They were driving to Sydney for New Years Eve, so I asked boldly if they could drive us. They agreed, whoo hoo. Sweet, a lift to Sydney would save us a fortune in bus tickets.
We also met a couple of cool people, Mandi and Alberto. Once a thing now just friends, they were on a mission to get out of it in Nimbin for Christmas and ended up at Grannys farm. We clicked right away and now live with Mandi. I will get to that though. Alberto is living in Melbourne, and is a diving instructor who had been in Thailand around the same time as us. We never met there though.
This is ridiculously long so gonna rest it here, and show you some photos, some from the Billabong sanctuary, in Townsville, some from Stradbroke Island off of Brisbane. I went for a weekend, Amy unfortunately couldn't come. Work thing. And some from Christmas in Nimbin.
Will finish our journeys tale soon.
