Sydné

Kent and Louis were delightfully trapped in Brisbane for 10 days. There we saw the sites, crossed the Story Bridge on foot, took the CityCat ferry along the river, went to see a few movies and got into nightclubs. The thing is that we do not have proper nightclub shoes and the bouncers are very strict in Brizzie. Louis has black running shoes and Kent has old beat-up hiking boots with ax-holes in them. We were, accordingly, refused entry. But then our friend Rosie bumped into a friend who said he had a pair for us. So we walked over to his car, parked near a bar where he was playing a gig that night. But how can two men gain entrance to one club with one pair of shoes? Answer: with an sneaky bold accomplice! Kent stashed his shoes under a street bench in some shrubs on the busy street and put on the nice pair. He went in with Rosie as I waited around the corner. Now the tough part. She came out with the good shoes tucked under her jacket behind her as Kent waited inside, shoeless. Louis took the shoes from Rosie and put his own under her jacket and gave her a few minutes to get back in before walking up (or rocked up as they say here). Success! We pulled the old switcheroo inside and high-fived. Leaving the place Kent went back to the bench and surprised onlookers when he pulled out boots from behind the bench and walked away with them hanging from the laces on his shoulder.
Subo was subject to the mechanic's whims for fully 4 days. We cruised around Brisbane in our new white chariot, hyundo. With a little luck and much stress, subo was registered under my name on monday evening at 4:45. She then made it back to the mechanic for a last minute CV shaft replacement in the dark. She's been in perfect health since, and is excitedly waiting for us 4 stories underground a couple blocks away.
We're making a shorter stay in this wretched hive of scum and villainy known as Sydney. We've exhausted this resource: Lord Nelson pub, ferry to Manly, Natural history museum, Redoak pub, a bunch of other pubs, etc... Kent managed to shock Louis with a high-five from the DJ's stage at the pub last night, he was happily dancing away up there. King's Cross has been a great nook to discover, and an absolute highlight is a small Indian place on the main drag which has reinvented the kebab, using naan, tandouri chicken and some butter chicken sauce. Absolutely brilliant, especially since it seems to be open as long as it's dark out. We thank you Sydney for food, and we will sing songs of your greatness back in Perth and make Perth feel bad. Then we'll tell Perth it's alright, there's still time to grow, and the Swan River is unbeatable.

Bristanbul

Brisbane, sometimes referred to as Brisney Land, or Bris Vegas... or why not BrIsreal, BrIstanbul, Puerto Risbane is a sultry settlement. We are staying with our Brizzie connection Jacqui who is showing us around and housing us as well and taking us around in her roofless 4 wheel drive Suzuki (the Suzi) giving Subo a rest.
Subes was just so excited about Brisbane, she cast away her oil cap on the open road. A trip to the wrecker solved the problem; we scored the replacement for free. Subo now sits in Jacqui's driveway like Frankenstein on the surgeon's table, a hodgepodge of cannibalised parts, awaiting a replacement windscreen (windshield). If all goes well she'll be ready to pass the roadworthy inspection, which, along with heaps of other paperwork, will allow her to be reregistered.
We've also been enjoying the sights of this rockin metropolis. We spent a day at the museum, we went to the lookout and we spent an entire day at a cheap breakfast joint. Mostly it's been hanging out with our outrageous friends Jacqui and Rosie, along with Sam and the entirety of Jacqui's immediate family, Mr. W, Ma Marshall, Ian and John.

Rum and Ginger

The drive from Cairns was undertaken with no extra passengers. We felt we could do the relatively short drive (1713 km) more erratically and leisurely that way. We did it in four days, camping in national parks or forests twice and in a free roadside camping once. But we crossed the Tropic of Capricorn on the way down. This is their December. It is cold. The first night was alright. The second night, after seeing some crocs being fed and koalas and such, we stayed in a national forest in a campground 12 km along a dirt track. A German ex-pat was camping there and we set down next to him in the dark. He invited us to his massive fire and told us he has been travelling for 10 years since retiring. I think he knows every corner of the country, he knew in detail exactly the places we had been.

Each of our three camps, we were visited by a new creature. The first night it was little black turkeys, keen to annoy us with turkey noises and rustling of grass. In the state forest the following night it was clever little possums. They came down from the trees at dusk, and quickly discovered our tomatoes and bread. Kent even put a rock on our pantry tupperware and the cheeky monkeys worked so hard at the handles they pulled them off. The third night was the frozen free camp, where we saw Grey Nomads in their natural habitat. Louis excitedly identified them in a whisper. They arrive quietly, hours before you do, and await the veil of night in their caravans, enjoying an occasional brisk walk through camp. Then, without warning, they turn on their generators and outdoor floodlights and watch satellite TV. In all honesty, we met a few lovely RV campers who were helpful and polite, and genuinely interested in our trip. All the elements of camping came together like the four ingredients of a bittersweet instant coffee: good simple meals, waking up cold at night, meeting fellow campers and wildlife.

Yesterday, we finally made it to our most important destination: Bundaberg! Yes, the site of the famous rum distillery as well as the ginger beer brewery (read ginger ale). We visited both places and sampled their sweet nectars and bought some drinks and merch. Unfortunately, Bundie is not the stuff dreams are made of and we decided to push on. Even more unfortunately, Kent scored the first speeding ticket of the trip, doing one one four in a hundred zone. The cop didn’t scold, infact he must have been trying to meet his quota of the night before taking a little nap, he rushed off without even saying “no buts meow, that’s the law.”

As if compelled by the television gods, Louis got out of bed last night to see what he was hearing on TV. It was only Bill Maher but a promo said that Conan O'Brien was coming up and Jimmy Fallon too. Louis stayed up half the night watching them, gleeful and content.

This morning, in the Mooloolaba hostel, Coldplay blared through blown speakers early in the morning as if to make some young packpacker feel it was the soundtrack to their OC inspired life. We now turn our attention to the beach, and ponder the next stretch of road to Brisneyland. Without having actually seen the beach yet, this potent holiday spot seems like a cross between Perth’s Scarborough beach and the Sydney Harbour. The Sunshine Coast we are just an hour or two from Bris Vegas, small country roads are now divided highways with roadside motels and fast-food joints and everything! We are both looking forward to settling down for a bit, and lord knows Subo needs a break (and a new rear left tyre!).

Coping in Cairns

Arrow tree in Mt. Isa showing exact distance and direction to great cities such as Rome and Kamloops, BC.

Happy and safe travels took place between Darwin and Cairns. It was a textbook journey including, but not limited to: 2 belgian backpackers (Ludo and Arnaud), 2 National/State parks, 225km of dirt road, 1 bag of goon (boxed wine), 3 square meals a day, 1 dinosaur museum visit, 1cracked windshield, 2 wallabies petted, 2 campfires and 2 and a half free campsites, and dozens of roadtrains passed. We started the trip with a mandatory stop at the famed magnetic termite mounds in Litchfield park (better known for croc feeding), and then booked it towards the red centre until Threeway. The Queensland border was welcome, but the monotany of savannah grasslands didn't fully end until we reached the foothills of the great dividing range. The 4 of us enjoyed the Porcupine (misnomer) NP camp along the Kennedy Developmental road. The road itself had an identity crisis, and wasn't decided on single lane paved, fully dirt or straight country highway with lines. The savannah faded away as the eucalyptus trees became denser and taller eastwards, until we hit the foothills. The pastures of the foothills were reminiscent of a tropical Scotland, and the road was woven into the patchwork of emerald polygon fields, and Kent's arms ached as we twisted through the landscape. Further down the road, we were all taken aback by the mammoth mountains heading into Cairns, and Kent's arms ached some more. After a fairly standard night out on the town (beer, mates, dancing women) we're acclimatising ourselves for a trip to the outer edge of a little reef near by you might have heard of called the Great Barrier. Then there is a monster truck show in town that we might have a look at.

From here we shall head south along the coast.